


A More Profound Bond

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Sex, Requited Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean gets attacked by a beast that no one has ever seen before, and Castiel only just saves him from the claws of death, they both realise that they really do share a more profound bond.</p>
<p>"Cas nodded and began to mutter in an imposing voice which made the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. A golden light began to bloom between their fingers like liquid sunlight. It spiralled up their outstretched arms, twisting, turning and growing, reminding Dean of the vines which clung to the wall outside the churchyard. The fan of light spread out further, filling every inch of their bodies with a warm tingling radiance. Cas’ voice continued to boom as the glow reached its climax- a fiery inferno of crawling sunbeams. Cas’ voice ceased suddenly and the light vanished. Dean took back his hand and held it in front of his face, appraising it, still picturing the shining magic which had played upon it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A More Profound Bond

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another fic I'm uploading for my friend (who also wrote "Mrs Hudson's Mistake"). She began writing this before she actually watched Supernatural, so apologises for OOC-ness at the start. Please comment so she knows what you beautiful people think of her writing!

The demon came out of nowhere.

 

It flung itself at Dean with wild-eyed, heart-stopping fury. Dean slashed furiously and his silver knife connected with demon flesh. With a final blood-curdling scream the demon fell at Dean’s feet in ever-growing pool of its own dark blood.

 

Suddenly they were upon him.

 

Demons surrounded him in every direction, attacking him from every angle. The world was lost in a blur of battle confusion as Dean slashed, stabbed and hurled handfuls of salt at his assailants, barely keeping them at bay. He killed one, and then another. Dean’s salt found its mark and another retreated, its skin corroding and burning, oozing a ghastly oil-like substance.

 

Two demons remained; they inched towards him, one on either side, their grotesquely human faces twisted into threatening snarls. They reached him at exactly the same time, clawing the air beside him with fingernails like talons. Dean made a wild slash at the one on his right and his knife sliced through the tender flesh of the demon’s neck, separating its head from its body. It hit the pavement of the shadowed alley with a thud. The final demon’s talons ripped through the air, Dean twisted his head to the side franticly and the demon’s claws missed their mark, falling only centimetres from his face, so close that Dean could feel the whoosh of air against his cheek.

 

The demon made to attack him again. Desperately Dean tossed the knife from his hand intending to catch it in the other. He watched it, his last chance, as it fell through the air. His pulse raced as his fingers brushed against the hilt and for a terrifying moment Dean thought he might drop it. Using his fingers he flicked the knife into his palm and with his hand firmly clasped around the hilt, he stabbed down violently and drove the silver blade into the demons chest. His knife sank deep, right up to the hilt, and the demon screeched its last, glowing with a fiery light which lit up its skeleton like a lightning flash.

 

It fell backwards, dead.

 

Panting heavily, Dean leaned down and dragged the knife from its broken body.  _Left-handed,_ he thought.  _Not bad._

 

Dean never stood a chance.

 

The  _thing_  fell on him without even the slightest breath of warning. It was the exact colour of the shadows which flicked and deepened in its presence, except for its eyes which were ablaze with such an intense fiery hatred that Dean was almost blinded. It was as far from humanoid in shape as is possible, but resembled no animal Dean had ever seen either. It reminded Dean of nightmares and of children’s vivid and fear-provoking imaginations; something that belonged in a story book and not in the real world. But Dean had fought plenty of things that most people considered to be myth and he had the scars to prove that they weren’t. 

 

The most potent aspect of the thing’s appearance was the sheer size of it; it towered over Dean as if he had the significance of an ant. Its huge claws alone were almost half his height and when it opened its mouth to roar a savage challenge Dean saw that its glistening fangs were of a similar proportion. Its fetid breath washed over Dean, forcing the hair backwards from his forehead. But the most unusual and frightening thing about it was the impossible  _not-solid_  quality to it- it wavered and danced like smoke in the breeze. But despite its lack of solidity Dean had no doubts about its dangerousness and capability. He knew it would take no more effort than it does to blink for this creature to kill him.

 

A huge, dragon-like tail whipped out of no-where and beat down upon Dean’s right wrist, the one in which Dean gripped his silver knife, the dagger no more than a pinprick compared to the vastness of the shadow creature. It was with a disconnected disposition that Dean heard the sickening crunch of breaking bones and realized that the thing had snapped his wrist. The knife fell from his hand, the momentum flinging it far out of Dean’s reach.

 

A petrifying, all-consuming panic sparked in Dean’s chest and spread through him. Dean lost all traces of hope and was filled with a depression so black it was as if the darkness was already eating him alive. He was going to die. He would never see his family, Sam and Bobby, again. He would never see Cas.

 

The creature struck a sudden, crippling blow which Dean failed to dodge and pain exploded across his side. The creature hissed and struck out again, talons reaching for his soft human flesh. Dean dived and avoided the sharp tear of the claws just in time but the creature just struck again with incredible agility and power and this time he wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s talons ripped through Dean’s flesh like a knife through butter, gouging several deep scars into his chest. Dean fell backwards, aware of nothing but the brutal, searing agony.  The shadows began to cling to the corners of his vision even before he hit the ground.

 

The last thing Dean remembered before his world faded was the pattering sound of hysterical footsteps. Then his head smacked the pavement with a crunch and everything went black.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Castiel sprinted into the alley and evaluated the scene through Jimmy Novak’s attentive eyes. The shadowy creature loomed over Dean’s still body like an ominous storm cloud. A tangled mess of emotions rose up in him, the most prominent being a dreadful fear for Dean’s well-being. He blasted the creature with a blinding scorch of bright white light, not bothering to watch as it vanished behind him, and raced over to Dean’s side.

 

“Dean!” He cried. He took a sharp intake of breath at the horrific sight of his friend’s mangled body. He sank into a kneeling position and, placing his hands underneath Dean’s back, lifted him off the unforgiving ground slightly. Dean’s headed lolled backwards at a sickening angle. Cas drew Dean’s unconscious body towards him and rested Dean’s head in his lap. Dean’s chested fluttered with faint life.

 

“Oh. Dean.” He whispered; worry gripping him like a vice.

 

Sam appeared at Cas’ side and gasped, throwing up his hands to cover his mouth. His eyes glistened with concern and dread, “He’s not…” Sam couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He had lost his brother too many times before.

 

“He’s alive,” Cas reassured him.  _But barely,_ he thought.

 

“You can fix him can’t you Cas?”

 

Cas looked down at Dean’s blood soaked clothing and hoped to heaven that he could. Life without Dean would be unbearable. He already hated himself and the countless sins he had committed on his time on this earth. Without Dean he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep on going.

 

Cas peeled back Dean’s sticky T-shirt and examined the wounds. There were four in total, each a couple of inches deep. They were caked in blood and there was evidence of where the muscle had been torn. A more frightening observation however was the edges of the wounds, which were an unnatural greyish colour, like Dean’s flesh was already decaying, robbing the man of colour and life. To a weaker man than Dean they would have been unquestionably fatal.

 

Cas also noticed the beginnings of a nauseating purple bruise on Dean’s side, he must have been hit with immense force for it to be bruising like that already. But there was no time to wonder what had happened, Dean could tell him when he woke up.  _If_ he woke up.

 

Cas placed his hands on Dean’s chest and was shocked at how cold Dean’s skin was. Cas needed to heal him, and fast. Closing his eyes Cas summoned forth a trickle of magic and sent it into the ravaged landscape of Dean’s chest. A golden fire sparked and glowed around the edges of the wounds and spread out to encase his side as well. Within moments the bruise faded and the holes in Dean’s chest began to knit themselves back together until all that remained were four pale white scars that tracked Dean’s chest from side to side like ghosts of the disaster which had taken place. The glow vanished and the alley seemed darker than ever.

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze was unfocused and he wore a confused expression upon his face, “Cas.” He struggled. “Cas. You saved me. Again.”

 

Dean’s gaze slid to meet Cas’ and for a moment he just continued to stare into his eyes, an unreadable countenance upon his face. Dean eventually looked away. Weakly, he struggled to sit up, “Ouch.” he exclaimed, “My wrist.”

 

He regarded it for a moment, and the odd angle at which his hand was tilted. Cas reached over and took it in his hands. The angel once again worked his magic and within moments it was as good as new. Cas allowed himself to hold on to Dean’s hand for a little longer than was necessary before hastily letting go.

 

“Dean.” Sam’s deep voice, fraught with relief, reverberated through the air. Cas had almost forgotten he was there.

 

Dean looked up at Sam and smiled feebly, “Help me up.” he said.

 

Sam strode around to Dean’s other side and together he and Cas lifted Dean onto his feet. Dean wobbled and almost fainted, the world spun around him. Cas caught him before he could do any damage to himself and with strength you would not expect from a man of his build swept Dean into his arms as though he were a child.

 

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s get you home.”

Dean was comfortable and warm cradled against Cas’ chest and within moments the gentle rhythm of Cas’ powerful stride and the soothing smell of his skin had lulled Dean back into the painless land of unconsciousness.

 

~~~~~~~

 

The first thing Dean registered as he woke up was the warmth and softness of his own bed. For a moment he was happy and content, the events of last night only a niggling suspicion that he was forgetting something at the back of his mind. Then the memories came flooding back his eyes shot open.

 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice was concerned and wary, Dean looked up to find him standing awkwardly next to the door.

 

“Erm, good morning Cas.”

 

“Oh, Dean.” Cas exclaimed, rushing forwards, “I was worried about you.”

 

Dean laughed nervously, secretly embarrassed yet pleased by Cas’ outburst of affection, “I’m fine, man.”

 

An indecipherable look came into Cas’ eyes, one that made a twinge of apprehension stir in Dean’s guts.  _Was there something he wasn’t telling him?_

 

“Um,” Cas said awkwardly, “Have you seen…” His eyes flicked down to Dean’s chest and no more words were necessary. Fearful of what he might find, Dean began to pull up the edge of his T-shirt. It occurred to him that it wasn’t the one he had been wearing last night- that one would have been torn and stained with blood anyway. Someone must have changed his clothing whilst he was out. He wondered if it had been Cas, the idea made him feel strangely uncomfortable.

 

 Unable to put it off any longer, Dean looked down at his chest, and the sight that met his eyes made him gasp in horror. Four impossibly long scars stretched across his chest. They were slightly diagonal in positioning, the bottom one across his lower stomach area and the highest almost reaching his collar-bone. But the size of them wasn’t what was so shocking, it was the colour. Instead of the usual pale pink, each scar was a light grey, the colour deepening and darkening to a charcoal hue in the middle of each scar.

 

“How?” stuttered Dean, “How is that possible?

 

Cas shrugged. “Poison.” He said simply. “If I hadn’t healed you when I did, you’d have died for sure.”

 

Dean looked back down at the line of scars that looked as if they’d been draw across his skin in marker pen. He didn’t know what to say, “What even was that?” he asked eventually, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

 

Cas shook his head sadly. “Something very dark Dean.”

 

“You mean you don’t know?”

 

“I have never experienced an encounter with such a being before.”

 

“But you’re an angel! You must have some idea!”

 

“Sorry Dean, but I do not.”

 

A silence followed, as both Dean and Cas lost themselves in their own separate thoughts.

 

“Thank you.” Dean said at long last.

 

Cas looked at him in confusion, his head slightly tilted to the side. “What for?”

 

“For saving my life.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

“We need to talk Dean.”

 

It was three days since the attack of the mystery monster and Dean was making breakfast in the kitchen when Cas suddenly appeared beside him, a light sound of fluttering wings filling the air.

 

“Jesus!” Dean cursed, dropping the mug he had been holding. “You have got to stop doing that Cas! It scares the hell out of me!”

 

Cas picked up the fallen mug, now chipped and cracked, and placed it on the counter.

 

“I’m sorry.” he muttered.

 

“It’s okay.” Dean reassured him. As always, it was difficult for him to get angry at Cas, “So…” He continued, “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

 

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Cas began, “About what happened the other day and it made me realise something.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Dean prompted, wondering where this was going.

 

“And, well, I was just thinking that, you know, what if I was off somewhere and something happened to you? I mean, I can turn up here any time I want, but you? You have no way of telling me you need me. And even if there was there’s no guarantee that’d hear you. What if you were about to die Dean? I’d never know. How could I live with myself if something happened to you? Something that I could have prevented. What if I hadn’t been there when you were attacked? You…You’d be… well, you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me. I can’t risk that happening Dean. Your brother needs you, the world needs you and well…this is going to sound stupid, but I need you too.”

 

“Cas…”

 

“But anyway that’s not the point. The point is that you need to be able to summon me properly. That way I can come to your aid when you call me.”

 

“You can do that?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a simple enough spell.”

 

“So… like, what do we do?”

 

“Well first things first, we have to decide how you want to summon me, like what you want to say. I was thinking maybe Castiel, but three times.”

 

“Hmmm, I dunno, what if I don’t have the time to say it three times?”

 

“Yeah, you’re right. How about just Castiel then? I suppose you wouldn’t be able to use it in conversation anymore, at least not without summoning me, but then again you always call me Cas anyway. And if you ever needed to tell anyone about me you could always just get Sam to say it.”

 

“You mean Sam won’t be able to summon you? What if he needs help?”

 

“I’m sorry Dean but this only works on one person. I won’t ever be able to use this spell again.”

 

“Like, ever?”

 

Cas nodded.

 

“And you’re wasting it on me?”

 

“I wouldn’t call it wasting, Dean. You’re important.”

 

Dean contemplated the idea for a moment. Then he shrugged, realising that in all honesty this was beyond him and what he wanted, “I guess it’s your choice Cas.”

 

“Well I want to.”

 

“Fine.”

 

A silence fell. Dean couldn’t understand why Cas would want to waste a spell like that on someone like him. He was just an ordinary guy. His lifetime was only the blink of an eye for an angel.

 

“Dean?” Cas asked tenderly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“There’s something I need to tell you. About the spell. If I do this you have to understand that you will have an incredible amount of power over me, not only will I dragged to your side as soon as you say the word but if you forced me too, I wouldn’t be able to leave either.”

 

“You know I’d never do something like that!” Dean exclaimed, furious that Cas would accuse him of such a thing. He didn’t know what hurt more- the fact that Cas thought he would ever try and manipulate anyone like that, or the fact that Cas didn’t trust him.

 

“I know, Dean. I know. That why I’m letting you do this. I just needed to warn you. Greater men than you have been twisted and corrupted by the prospect of power. Just make sure you don’t land me in any traps, whether intentional or not, okay? This is a last-resort-only thing. I’m taking a big risk here, so don’t let me down, all right?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Say it. Promise.”

 

“Okay, okay!” Dean threw up his hands in exasperation. “I promise that I won’t let anyone hurt you Cas, whether it’s myself or someone else, no harm will come to you because of this spell.”

 

Relief washed over Cas’ features. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Dean replied sarcastically, still irritated by Cas’ lack of faith in him.

 

Cas frowned at him. “Dean, you understand why this is necessary don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I just…” Dean’s words trailed off into a sigh. “Never mind.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“What now, Cas?”

 

Cas looked up at him with soft features and compassionate eyes and Dean felt his anger drain away, “For what it’s worth I do trust you, okay? I just… I just needed to be sure. I’m kind of worried about this you know.”

 

“Then why are you doing it?”

 

“Dean, any fear I have about this spell is nothing compared to the fear I have about losing you. I need to do this.”

 

“Seriously, man” Dean said, acting blasé to cover up the fact that he was melting inside, “You need to stop saying stuff like that.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Cas replied, but he was grinning, glad to see Dean back to his old-self again.

 

“Come on then, we’d better do that spell.”

 

“If you’re sure…”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Okay then.”

 

Dean and Cas evaluated each other for a moment.

 

“Give me your hand.” Cas instructed.

 

Dean did as he was told. Cas stepped back so that their arms had to be stretched to their limit in order to still touch, their middle fingers connecting in the middle.

 

“Ready?” Cas asked.

 

“Are you?” Dean countered.

 

Cas nodded and began to mutter in an imposing voice which made the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. A golden light began to bloom between their fingers like liquid sunlight. It spiralled up their outstretched arms, twisting, turning and growing, reminding Dean of the vines which clung to the wall outside the churchyard. The fan of light spread out further, filling every inch of their bodies with a warm tingling radiance. Cas’ voice continued to boom as the glow reached its climax- a fiery inferno of crawling sunbeams. Cas’ voice ceased suddenly and the light vanished. Dean took back his hand and held it in front of his face, appraising it, still picturing the shining magic which had played upon it.

 

“Incredible.” he breathed.

 

Dean looked up to find Cas looking unusually pale and unbalanced, he was bent almost double, hands resting on his knees, breath coming in gasps.

 

“You okay?” Dean asked worriedly.

 

Cas nodded unconvincingly. Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Just… tired.” Cas panted, “The magic… kind of wears me out.”

 

“You look like you need to lie down man.”

 

Cas shook his head more strongly this time. “I’m fine.”

 

Cas stood up, colour returning to his cheeks and grinned at Dean.

 

“So… that’s it?” Dean wondered aloud, “Has it worked?”

 

“I guess so,” Cas replied, “We should probably check.”

 

He flashed a cheeky grin at Dean and whisked out of the room. “I’ll see you in a bit!” He called.

 

Dean was a little confused by Cas’ sudden change in mood, he had been so serious before and now he was acting like an excited child playing hide-and-seek. Turning his mind to the matters at hand Dean was almost surprised to find how nervous he was about this. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans and let his eyes flutter closed for a moment as he gathered himself. Dean took a deep breath and leaving himself no time to worry about how this could go wrong, licked his dry lips and spoke. “Castiel.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Castiel was stood nervously outside the Winchester’s house when he first heard Dean’s voice echo inside his head. It bounced around within his skull getting louder and louder until it reverberated throughout the length of his body. The noise resonated through him, making his body tingle and vibrate. The world was spinning and spinning…and fading. Cas felt a sudden lurch in his gut and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. For a moment he was falling and then… silence.

 

Cas warily opened his eyes and was overcome by a sudden rush of blood to his head. He stumbled, dizzy. Cas felt a steadying hand on his arm and looked up to see Dean peering at him, concern evident upon his attractive face. Cas righted himself, the disorientation gone but Dean’s lingering hand not exactly helping him get his breathing back to normal. Dean was startlingly close. His breath-taking green eyes bore into Cas’. They were soft and full of emotion, flecked with every shade of forest green and as deep as the ocean.

 

_Is this what drowning is like?_  thought Cas.  _Because if so, I could happily spend all of eternity slowly sinking downwards_.   _I would sacrifice the light and the air without a second glance if it meant I could spend another minute with Dean looking at me like that._

 

Staring at Dean reminded Cas of the last time he’d gazed into Dean’s perfect eyes, when Dean had been shuddering on the floor in a pool of his own blood and Cas had been filled with the terror of losing him. Suddenly Cas couldn’t bear it any more, the memory was too sharp and vivid that even Dean’s eyes couldn’t save him. He looked away.

 

Dean let his hand fall from Cas’ arm and for a moment an uneasy hush filled the room as each man contemplated what had just happened. It was Dean who broke the silence, “So…um, I guess it worked then.”

 

“Yes.” Cas smiled uneasily at Dean, trying to forget the way he’d been looking at him a moment earlier.

 

“I suppose you’re completely at my mercy now then, huh?” Dean joked, but the usually easy teasing now sounded forced. There was an edge of tension that lurked underneath his voice.

 

Cas faked a smile.  _I always was,_ he thought.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Sam and Dean snorted with laughed as they stumbled through the door of their house after a long, mortally dangerous, but also rather amusing day hunting.

 

“…But did you see his face!” Sam chuckled, “It was so  _surprised_!”

 

Both Dean and Sam burst out laughing again, Dean suspected that it was the fatigue and the relief which was causing them to find everything so hilarious. They ceased laughing; gulping great lungfuls of air to steady themselves.

 

Dean looked down at his blood splattered clothing. “Hey, Sam. Do think those demon bastards will stop trying to kill us long enough for me to take a bath?”

 

“Sure buddy.” Sam jested. “And if not I could always send them in there, the sight of you naked would be enough to kill ‘em.”

 

Dean punched his brother playfully on the arm but laughed good-naturedly along with him.

 

“Seriously though,” Sam continued, unrelenting, “I don’t know how Cas survives.”

 

Dean smiled sadly across at Sam. “Come on man, you know me and Cas aren’t like that.”

 

Sam snorted derisively. “Yeah, right. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

 

“What, so you don’t think I’ve noticed about you and Gabriel.”

 

“What do you mean  _me and Gabriel_?”

 

“Aww come on dude, just admit it.”

 

Sam wasn’t smiling so much anymore. “There’s nothing to admit.”

 

“What about that time we went down the pub for your birthday? You remember that. Why the heck would Gabriel turn up just to wish you a happy birthday? The dude’s a freakin’ archangel for God’s sake. Plus he looked like he wasn’t to vaporize someone when he realized that me and Cas were there too. And that girl, the one who was flirting with you, how do you think she ended up with curry all over her? And when she threw that beer at you ‘cause she thought it was your fault Gabriel’s hands were all over you, he probably would have ripped your shirt off right there and then if me and Cas hadn’t been there.”

 

“Well if I remember rightly, you took Cas home early that night.”

 

“Only because he overestimated how much beer his vessel could drink without throwing up everywhere.”

 

“Dude, he was so drunk he could barely stand, to you really expect me to believe he didn’t make a move on you?”

 

“Actually he didn’t. He just babbled some random crap about hating killing everyone and then threw up on my shoes.  And anyway, if nothing happened between you and Gabriel why did you come home wearing his jacket?”

 

“He gave it to me. He thought I might get cold.”

 

Dean looked at Sam incredulously, and raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Okay, well, answer this, why do you keep going back to that pub, then? I’ve seen you sneaking off when you think I won’t notice. You wait for him don’t you? You sit there and hope he’ll turn up. All night. Seriously man, if that’s not dedication, I don’t know what is.”

 

Sam opened his mouth to argue but closed it again as the realization that he had nothing to say hit him. The truth was: Dean was right, “Shut up.” Sam snapped.

 

“Whatever,” Dean sighed, not wanting to fall out with his brother. “I’m going for a bath.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean slipped into the warm, tranquil water of the bath and let the water slip through his fingers as restless thoughts raced through his head. His argument with Sam still echoed inside his head and the image of Cas’ dazed face was still imprinted in his mind’s eye. He thought about the hasty excuses, the mumbled goodbyes. He hadn’t seen Cas since, he wondered if things would still be awkward between them the next time they met.

 

_Why hadn’t he just kissed him?_  He had wanted to so badly, but fear restrained him, whispering doubts into his head.  _Cas doesn’t like you. Why would he? He’s an angel. And you’re just an ordinary guy who fights supposedly mystical creatures in his spare time. He looked away Dean, he doesn’t want you._ But Sam’s words struggled against them, making Dean’s head reel.  _I’ve seen the way you look at each other._  Groaning, Dean slid under the water and tried to forget.

 

It wasn’t long until Dean drifted off. The warmth of the water soothed his aching bones and conned him into a false sense of security.  But when Dean finally succumbed, sleep was far from restful. Dean’s mind was full of twisted dreams that he couldn’t run away from. Dean tossed and turned, making the water slosh about him, he whimpered at the terrors that plagued him, unfurling from behind his closed eyelids.

 

_Cas and Dean were laughing. Dean was aware of nothing but that simple fact. Life was simple and easy and with Cas beside him Dean felt nothing but happiness. But it didn’t last. It couldn’t. Life wasn’t like that._

 

_Suddenly everything was wrong. The world seemed to be growing darker, storm clouds creeping in like shadows. Cas’ laugh transformed, becoming mocking, malicious, twisted._

_Cas’ appearance was changing too, altering from the handsome face he knew and loved into something much more sinister and malevolent. Before Dean knew it he was gazing into the chilling face of the shadow creature, it eyes- twin hell fires, surrounded by flickering obscurities, the only specks of light for as far as the eye could see. Once again the eyes bore into him with an unquenchable hatred and Dean felt himself being tossed backwards as the pain tore him in two._

 

_But this time no-one came running._

 

_Dean knew with a heart-wrenching agony that no-one was going to save him. His grip on the world was lessening, everything was leaking away._ _He was dying. The darkness clawed at Dean as he sank even deeper into its unfathomable depths; it was seeping inside him, threatening to devour him entirely. Would this abyss ever end? Where was the light? Where was Cas?_

 

_And suddenly there he was, a blinding white light piercing through the gloom. The light in the darkness. His guardian angel. His saviour._

_His magnificent presence banished the hungry fangs of the shadows which were biting into him. He was in the form of his human vessel except for the fact that his entire body glowed like a torch and a pair of shimmering angel wings which fanned out on either side of him. His angelic face shone with power and radiance, illuminating the nothingness, showing him the way. He stretched out his hand and Dean knew that if he could only take it he would be saved._

 

_But it was too late. He was falling too fast and Cas couldn’t follow him into the void. Dean could only watch as the gap between them widened, his hope fading. He opened his mouth to scream but his voice was snatched away by the unrelenting wind as he fell rapidly towards the ravenous jaws of hell, gaping wide in anticipation of the moment when they finally snatched him, obliterating the very memory of him._

_Castiel…_

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean’s eyes shot open, his heart hammering against his chest. The water was freezing cold and splashed about him as he propped himself upright. Goosebumps covered his skin and he was shivering uncontrollably but whether because of the nightmare or the cold he didn’t know.

 

“Dean?” Cas’ bewildered voice shocked Dean so much he almost jumped out of his skin. His racing heart skipped a beat.

 

Cas was stood shakily in the corner of the bathroom, his face pale and pinched.

 

“Oh my God Cas!” Dean could hear the hysteria is his own voice, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

 

“I was going to ask you that. You’re the one that summoned me.”

 

“Dude, I’m in the bath. Why the heck would I summon you?”

 

Cas shrugged. “Dean, you must have sent for me, I can only be summoned by you speaking my name, intentionally or not.”

 

Cas peered at him curiously, “You were asleep. Were you dreaming?”

 

Now that Dean’s initial fear had abated he was overwhelmed with self-consciousness. Warmth blossomed in his cheeks; he felt it spread across his face like wildfire. Dean looked downwards at his hunched up knees, unable to meet Cas’ unwavering scrutiny.

 

“I had a nightmare.” he admitted.

 

Cas’ face filled with understanding. “Are you ok?”

 

“I…I don’t know.” Dean was surprised at his own honesty.

 

Cas made to move forward and comfort him and then thought better of it, suddenly realizing the intimacy of the situation. There was an uncomfortable silence.

 

“Um, Cas.” Dean shifted awkwardly in the cramped space of the bathtub. “This bath is kinda cold; I’d quite like to get out of it.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” Cas apologised, turning away. The sound of Dean clambering out of the bath sent a blush across Cas’ cheeks. He wrestled with the yearning to glance over his shoulder. _Don’t think about it Castiel,_ he told himself _. Don’t think about it._

 

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was soft. Cas whirled around. “Sit with me?”

 

 Dean was sat on the bathroom floor, his back resting against the side of the bathtub. He gestured to the space beside him. Cas sat. Dean was wrapped in a towel that barely covered him, his muscled legs protruded erotically and his shoulders were bare; Cas could see the glint of his scarcely hidden tanned chest, marred only by the recent dark scars.  _Damn, he was beautiful._

 

Dean felt slightly less vulnerable now he was less exposed but awkwardness still aggrieved him. He was beginning to regret throwing out his clothes, even blood stained, ragged clothes were better than none. He looked up at Cas and was surprised to find that he wouldn’t look at him. He kept his face tilted away and a trace of colour still lay across his cheekbones.

 

“Cas?” Dean probed, forcing Cas to meet his eyes for a brief moment.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

 

“What?” Cas asked, even though he knew the answer.

 

 “Me being naked?” Dean clarified.

 

“A little.” Cas lied.

 

“But you’re an angel, surely you’ve seen plenty of people naked before, right?”

 

“Not really, Dean. And anyway, that’s not the same.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because...” Cas couldn’t help it anymore, his hand navigated the small distance between them and spun across Dean’s uncovered shoulder. Cas slid his hand onto the blood-red handprint where his fingers fit perfectly, a reminder of the very first time he had ever touched him. “Because  _you’re_  not the same, Dean. You’re so much  _more_  than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

 

Cas’ soft fingertips brushed along the length of Dean’s collarbone and trailed up his neck. Dean didn’t move to stop him. Why would he? He was transfixed by Cas’ eyes like a rabbit in the oncoming headlights. The sensation of Cas’ gentle hands on his skin sent his heart pounding, thudding violently against his chest. Goosebumps tingled on his skin, though whether from the cold or from something else Dean wasn’t sure. He tried to speak, to tell Cas how much he needed this, but the words stuck in his throat. Cas’ careful fingers explored the contours of Dean’s face in maddening slow motion. Cas’ tender fingertips came to rest on Dean’s slightly parted lips. Dean gulped nervously.

 

Slowly, carefully, as though Dean was an animal he didn’t want to spook; Cas began to lean forward. Dean felt his breath quicken as Cas moved closer, his body lending heat to Dean’s own icy one. Dean’s eyes slid closed as Cas’ warm breath tickled his face. His eyelashes beat against his cheek, like a butterfly fluttering its wings. A moment later Cas’ lips finally brushed against Dean’s. The kiss was brief and as soft and as light as a feather but was filled with the things that words don’t quite reach to. To Dean it was like magic, though a more wondrous and beautiful kind than any he had ever experienced before. Cas drew away and scrutinized Dean’s expression with an air of uncertainty.

 

“You kissed me.” Dean said quietly, as though stating it would finally make it real.

 

Cas nodded, biting his lip- trying unsuccessfully to hide his anxiety.

 

“Did… Did you…  _like_  it?” Dean stumbled.

 

Again Cas nodded. “Yes.”

 

“You… you can do it again if you like.”

 

Cas was already leaning in. “I’d like that.” He breathed.

 

Cas’ kiss was a little more certain this time, and when he made to draw away Dean held him in place with a returning kiss, gently teasing Cas’ lips open slightly. Cas kissed him back, increasing the pressure a little more; Dean’s cold lips between his own. For one lingering moment it was perfect, but then Cas’ retreated again, staring sheepishly at Dean’s lips as the impact of what he had just done hit him.

 

“I… I should go.” He stammered, lurching to his feet. Within an instant he was gone, leaving Dean sat bewildered on the stony floor, the memory of Cas’ lips still tingling across his own.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Cas felt bad for leaving Dean, but even worse for kissing him in the first place. It wasn’t fair for him to take advantage of Dean when he was at his most vulnerable.  _I shouldn’t be here_ , thought Cas as he hurried out of the Winchester’s bathroom, his head spinning with a puzzling mixture of guilt and pleasure.

 

“What took you so long?” complained Sam from somewhere behind him, “I was beginning to think you’d drowned.”

 

Cas whirled around, taken by surprise. Sam looked up from the magazine he had been browsing and was equally as startled to find that it wasn’t in fact Dean he was talking to.

 

“Cas?” he asked incredulously, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “What the heck were you doing…” he trailed off as an expression of understanding and then disgust clouded his face. “Actually don’t answer that.” he slammed the magazine closed and stalked off. “Kinky bastards.” he muttered; his voice bitter and angry.

 

Castiel wondered briefly was had gotten into him.  _Why was nothing ever straight forward anymore?_  It was like everything Castiel knew was falling apart. And now, he’d gone and kissed Dean, when he was no doubt scared and confused, and not even wearing any clothes. Castiel felt the panic rise in his chest. What would Dean think of him now? Castiel picked his way across the Winchester household, frustrated by his own actions; his head still a disorderly whirl.  _Why can’t anything just make sense?_  He lamented silently as he opened the door and stepped out into the night, unsure of where he was heading and not really caring were he ended up, as long as he could sort out the jumble of emotions inside him.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean didn’t see Cas for almost a week after that.

 

Sam continued to be moody and out of character, and at first the reason behind it was a mystery to Dean. After many careful attempts at conversation and being snapped at sullenly in reply, Dean eventually extracted a reluctant grumble about Sam having seen Cas leaving, and reasoned that Sam must have jumped to conclusions and assumed that Dean had been lying to him about his relationship with Cas. Dean had immediately attempted to explain the situation but Sam would have none of it and remained convinced of Dean’s guilt. But Dean knew his brother better than to assume that that was the only reason behind Sam’s dark mood.

 

After much consideration Dean eventually put it down to jealously.

 

_Maybe there really is nothing between him and Gabriel_ , Dean reasoned,  _and perhaps Sam wishes there was._

 

Cas was being equally perplexing. Dean couldn’t believe he had kissed him and then just left like that.  _What did that even mean?_  Had Cas suddenly regretted kissing him? Maybe he’d been under the influence of some crazy angel hormones or something. It didn’t make any sense. When Cas had kissed Dean, it was like all his dreams had come true. He had given him a hope of having something incredible and now he was gone, Dean’s hope was gone too. Dean wondered when he would next see him again and how awkward it would be.

 

The events that had passed between them would change everything. They had crossed an invisible barrier and now they could never go back. The time of their friendship was over. Now they would either become something more or fall apart entirely. Dean hoped with all his heart that they could make this work. Life without Cas would be unbearable. His crazy life was difficult enough, and sometimes he lost sight of what mattered; but Cas was always there showing him the way.

 

Life without Cas would be so very dark and bleak; without Cas he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep on going.

 

~~~~~~~

 

It was exactly five days until Castiel finally found the courage to return.

 

Five days since Castiel had kissed Dean.

 

Five days.

 

It had felt like an eternity and an instant all at the same time; something which messed with Castiel’s head almost as much as the raging war of emotions, most of which Dean was the cause of.

 

But now Castiel knew what he had to do. He had to go to Dean and tell him everything; he had to explain, had to make him understand. And hopefully Dean would be able to see just how much Castiel cared for him and maybe, just maybe, there was the chance that Dean would feel the same.

 

It was a long shot and Castiel knew it. But Castiel also knew that he had to take this risk. He couldn’t just pretend that nothing had happened; sooner or later he would have to confront it. So it might as well be now.

 

When Castiel opened his eyes he was stood in the Winchester’s living room, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. It was oddly quiet.

Dean was sat hunched up on the sofa, an empty can of beer stood beside him on the floor. Dean was staring off into the distance, his gaze unfocused. He hadn’t yet noticed Castiel’s presence. Castiel paused for a moment, watching Dean’s thoughtful face. He wondered what Dean was thinking about.

 

“Dean?” Castiel said tentatively, now he was actually here he was even more nervous about what he was about to do.

 

Dean snapped back into the real world with a jolt and examined Cas’ face with shocked eyes. “Cas…” he spluttered, “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to find you Dean; I have something to say. Well, quite a lot really.”

 

Dean swung his legs off the sofa to make room for Cas, in doing so knocking over the beer can with a clang.

 

“Crap.” He muttered leaning down to pick it up.

 

Cas got there first. His body brushed against Dean’s legs as he lifted the can up with nimble fingers and placed it out of the way, his intense eyes never leaving Dean’s face for a moment. Cas rose, Dean fidgeted awkwardly. Cas cautiously sat down beside Dean, his face apprehensive. An uncertain silence fell as Cas tried to compose himself.

 

“Cas…” Dean began, timidly.

 

Cas cut across him as he finally worked up the nerve to say something. “I’m sorry.” He blurted.

 

Dean frowned at him, but said nothing, allowing Cas to continue his explanation.

 

“I’m sorry for… for… for what happened. I just, well… I just … I like you. A lot. But not in the way I should. And I… I just… couldn’t help it. I think… I think I’m in love with you.” Cas hung his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry.” Cas took a deep breath, bracing himself, and slowly raised his head to look Dean in the face; ready for his rejection, his disgust, pity, unease, whatever.

 

What he did not expect was for Dean to be smiling.

 

“You silly little angel,” Dean chuckled softly, his voice full of affection. “I love you too.”

Dean was still smiling when he kissed him. Cas could taste the laughter and alcohol on his lips. But that wasn’t why Cas felt so drunk, the room was spinning around him, or why he was so addicted. That was just Dean; and it was incredible.

 

Once Dean started kissing Cas he couldn’t stop. He needed this: the soft brush of Cas’s face against his own, Cas’s warm, sweet breath against his lips, the way his body leaned in towards him, the rise and fall of Cas’s chest underneath his hands. Their mouths moved in synchrony, never had anything been so easy, so faultless. Cas’s hands crept into Dean’s hair, ruffling the soft brown locks as he pressed his lips stronger against Dean’s. Cas’s tongue slipped between Dean’s open lips and tentatively explored the curve of his teeth, causing Dean to moan softly; his fists clenching to grab great handfuls of Cas’s shirt, pulling Cas across the sofa and onto his lap.

 

Cas braced himself against the back of the sofa, his hands either side of Dean as their tongues danced. Dean’s hands slid from Cas’ chest, round his waist, scraping over his back, his fingernails digging into warm skin. Dean’s fumbling fingers brushed across Cas’s thigh and the touch withheld such a unpretentious intimacy that Cas felt something burning and unappeasable awake within him. A moment later he recognised it as lust.

 

The thought of committing one more sin was so despicable that it overcame the desire like a cold flood extinguishing a blaze, bringing with it an uncontainable panic. Cas jerked away from Dean, pushing him away with uncalculated strength. Dean crashed against the wall with a staggering force; it was a moment before Cas realized that it was him who had thrown him. He scrabbled backwards, his eyes wide with alarm, gawking down at his hands in disbelief. A chocked sob ripped up his throat, his eyes stung. Dean sat up groggily, dazed and confused. The concern and hurt was evident in his face but his eyes held no anger. For Cas, that just made it worse.

 

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was cracked with emotion and pain. “Did… did I do something wrong? God, Cas. I’m so sorry.” Cas’ pulse was still racing too fast for him to reply, the new-found hatred for himself squeezed his heart in an iron grip, making it difficult for him to breathe.

 

Another sob racked through him and he buried his face in his hands, unable to stand Dean’s selfless distress. The hot tears boiled over and began to flow, spilling down his face and into his palms. He sank to the floor as all strength left him. Dean staggered to his feet, and stumbled towards Cas, his only thought to try to make things right. Dean squatted beside Cas’ slumped form and reached out a comforting hand. “No!” Cas yelled fervently, startling Dean so much he almost fell over. “Don’t touch me!”

 

Dean snatched back his hand as if it had been burned. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled fearfully, “Jesus, Cas, I’m sorry. Please, God, just tell me what I’ve done. I swear I didn’t mean anything. God, Cas please forgive me.”

 

Cas tore at his messy hair, pushing it back with distraught fingers. Dean barely recognised Cas’ tear-streaked face, it was so twisted with anguish. “I…I hurt you Dean. How could I do something like that?” Cas voice was almost hysterical.

 

“Cas, it’s okay. I’m fine. I get thrown against walls all the time, you know. It’s no big deal.”

 

Cas shook his head, paying no head to Dean’s assurances. It wasn’t fine. Cas began to rock back and forth, sobbing softly.

 

“I’m a monster.” Cas wailed, looking up at Dean with blurry eyes. “I…I’m… a… a monster.”

 

Dean shook his head forcefully. “No, Cas.” Tears were prickling in his own eyes now, “Don’t say that.”

 

Cas continued to cry, silent tears gliding down his cheeks “It’s all my fault Dean. It’s all my fault. All those people Dean. I killed them all. And now…” Cas broke off, his voice choking into another strangled sob. “Oh God, oh God. What have I done?”

 

Cas wrapped his arms around himself, his fingernails digging violently into his arms, as if he were trying to hold himself together. As if he were afraid that if he let go he would fall apart.

 

“Cas, it’s not your fault, what you did was necessary. You saved more people than you destroyed. You risked your life for them. You’re a good person. In fact you’re more than that, you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

 

“How can I be? I’ve done everything wrong. I’ve murdered, stolen, deceived. And now this. I…I felt something, Dean. Something bad. I …I  _wanted_ …you.” Cas took a deep shuddering breath, his voice shaking. “Lust is a sin Dean.”

 

Dean stood up, suddenly furious. “That’s what this is about?  _Lust?_  It’s not lust if you love me Cas, or didn’t you mean any of those things you said? I thought you wanted this Cas!”

 

“I did… I do.”

 

“Then what’s the big problem? I don’t understand, Cas. I just don’t understand.”

 

“I’m sorry Dean. I just… I can’t do this. I can’t.”

 

“Fine,” Dean snapped harshly, “Then don’t.”

 

Dean whirled away, angry and hurt. He didn’t look back.

 

~~~~~~~

 

When Dean finally overcame his anger, it was already too late. Cas had disappeared. Dean sighed, feeling guilty. Cas had been upset and he’d yelled at him. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Cas never came back, he didn’t deserve him to. It had all gone so wrong. One second it was perfect and then the next everything was falling apart again.  _Why couldn’t things ever be simple? Was that really too much to ask for?_  He’d had a shot and now he’d gone and messed it up. What was Cas going to think of him now?

 

~~~~~~~

 

In actual fact Cas didn’t blame Dean at all. He understood exactly where he was coming from. He’d hurt him, badly; he had a right to be angry. It had taken Cas a while to clear his head but once he had shoved all of his emotion out of the way he was able to see things from Dean’s point of view. And after an ample amount of thought on the matter he realised that Dean was right.  _It’s not lust if you love me._ And Cas did love him. More than anything.

 

So that made it okay, right?

 

A tension-releasing sense of clarity washed over Cas. It  _was_  okay. Joy burst through Cas.  _It was okay._  It was more than okay. He could do this. He  _wanted_  to do this.

 

He had to go to Dean.

 

He just prayed that Dean could forgive him.

 

~~~~~~~

 

When Dean heard the doorbell ring he definitely did not expect to open it and see Cas shuffling awkwardly on the front step. Nor did he expect Cas to push him up against the wall and kiss him passionately, before he had even had time to stutter his name in surprise, but nevertheless that’s what happened.

 

Cas’ body was heavy against his own, pressing him against the wall with an almost violent passion. Cas’ hand was on his neck, caressing the soft skin of Dean’s throat. Somehow Dean’s hands ended up tangled in Cas’ belt loops- he was so lost in Cas’ kisses that he couldn’t quite remember how they’d got there.

 

Cas broke away, breathing deeply. He looked Dean straight in the eyes and blurted out exactly what was on his mind. “I want to make love to you.”

 

“What?” spluttered Dean, taken by surprise at Cas’ open honesty.

 

“You we’re right, Dean. About everything. It’s okay because I… I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that before.”

 

“No, Cas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were just trying to do what was right. And… are… are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean grinned broadly, his eyes sparkling. “Well then, I guess we’d better go find a bed.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Cas had visited Dean’s room plenty of times before but this time, as Dean dragged him over the threshold by the hand, it was as if Cas was seeing it for the first time.  The messy expanse of Dean’s unmade bed jumped out at him; he gulped nervously.

 

Dean turned to face him, a small fugitive smile playing on his lips. Dean pulled Cas close and gazed into his eyes in rapture, with the same intensity and longing that an astrologist stares at the stars.

 

“I love you Cas,” He whispered, “You know that?”

 

Cas had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from beaming too widely. “I do now.”

Dean laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him.

 

Their lips met, tender and timid. Cas’ heart raced, his breathing quickened. Cas swore Dean must be able to hear the thudding of his pulse, it pounded in his head like a racehorse sprinting for the finish line.  Dean eased Cas’ mouth open and gently sank his teeth into soft flesh of his lower lip. It was with a flicker of pride that Dean heard Cas groan quietly. Cas’ hands skimmed across Dean’s shoulder and down his spine as his tongue slowly travelled along Dean’s lips.

 

It was Dean’s turn to whimper in pleasure. Cas edged himself closer, unable to get enough of the syrupy taste of his lips and the musky scent of his skin. Dean’s hands inched under Cas’ shirt, fingers tracing soothing patterns on Cas’ skin, a seductive and satisfying art. Cas succumbed to the urge to stroke the curve of Dean’s body and ran his hands over Dean’s ass.

 

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean gasped breathlessly.

 

Cas looked worried, he chewed his lip anxiously. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

Dean laughed, shaking his head fondly. “No. No, you did everything right.” He purred. Dean kissed away Cas’ confused expression. Cas soon forgot about his misunderstanding.

 

“ _Castiel_.” Something about Dean’s voice when he said his name like that sent additional shivers arching down his spine like static electricity. It made his heart race with a wild tempo which matched the echoes in Cas’ head and the shuddering of his body. He felt the familiar tug in his stomach as the magic drew him even closer to Dean, their hips colliding. Somehow the summoning was different when Cas was right here, watching Dean doing it. It was an oddly intimate experience.

 

“Dean, “ Cas gasped, “you don’t need to summon me. I’m right here.”

 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Dean admitted guiltily, “Not like…”

 

Cas didn’t need Dean to finish his sentence to know what he was going to say.

_Not like last time._

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised.

 

After a few minutes they broke away, needing to catch their breath, keeping their heads resting against each other, their foreheads and noses still touching. Dean breath tickled Cas’ face, his beautiful eyes glittering cheekily, lending Cas courage.

 

Heart beating wildly Cas reached up with shaking hands and began to peel his jacket off his shoulders.

 

Dean watched him intently and his anxiety must have shown in his face because Dean’s eyes softened sympathetically. He placed his hands comfortingly over Cas’ own and helped him slide the jacket from his back, his eyes still locked with Cas’. Even before the soft thump that told Cas that his jacket had hit the floor Dean had pulled him into his arms and was hugging him tightly.

 

“It’s okay.” he whispered, his lips close to Cas’ neck as he consolingly stroked the feathery hair on the back of Cas’ head. “It’s going to be fine. Trust me.”  He leaned away, his hands still on Cas’ shoulders, so he could look Cas sincerely in the eyes, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I understand if this is difficult for you.”

 

“But I do want to. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this.”

 

“Then why are you scared?”

 

“I’m not scared, I’m just… I…” Cas squeezed his eyes closed. “What if I’m really bad?”

 

Dean laughed good-heartedly at his concern. “But you’re an angel!”

 

“Exactly, you expect me to be so incredible- what if I disappoint you?”

 

“Cas,” Dean said seriously, “You are so much more than just an angel. You’re  _my_  angel. You’ve already saved my life more times than I can remember, in fact you save my life every minute of every day just by being alive and here with me. I love you. And everything you do will always be incredible to me. You just need more faith.”

 

Cas smiled, all his worry gone. “How is it that you always know what to say?”

 

“Well when it comes to you Cas, I like to be an expert.”

 

Cas laughed, swaying in Dean’s strong, protective arms. He looked up into Dean’s beloved face and leaned in close. “I love you.” he whispered, just before their lips met once again and everything else was forgotten.

 

~~~~~~~

 

When Dean woke up the next morning golden sunlight was streaming through the window like liquid summer. It gave everything a soft undefined quality like the world was underwater and on fire all at the same time. It was truly a beautiful morning. Dean was warm, comfortable and content.

 

With Cas’ naked body curled up next to him, his head resting on Dean’s bare chest, their legs still intertwined, Dean couldn’t think of a more perfect way to wake up. Beside him Cas stirred and mumbled in his sleep, rolling even closer, his hands subconsciously reaching out for Dean. Dean gazed down at him, full of love and joy. He cherished the sight of unmasked contours of Cas’ body and the innocent, blissful expression on his face as he continued to sleep, making light snuffling noises as he exhaled.

 

He looked so beautiful in this strange gold light. Dean couldn’t resist stretching out and carefully brushed the hair away from Cas’ eyes so he could lean down and kissed his forehead delicately.

 

It was at this moment that Cas awoke.

 

Cas smiled up at Dean and planted a light kiss on his lips before stretching elegantly and yawning, his teeth gleaming in the sunlight. Dean watched his lips affectionately remembering their exact taste and texture, the fantastic sensation of them on his skin.

He couldn’t help smiling.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Good indeed.” Dean replied, still grinning.

 

Cas laughed softly. They lay there, feeling no need to move, lost in the warm comfort of the morning sun and each other’s proximity. Eventually Dean broke the easy silence. “I’m gonna go take a shower, ‘kay Cas?”

 

Cas nodded and rolled over to let him out of the bed, trying not to stare too much as Dean vacated the room. He sat up, pulling the sheets around him and viewed the golden morning. Everything was beautiful and different; it was as if Cas was seeing the world with new eyes. As if last night had changed him.

 

Cas looked down at his hands, remembering them sliding over Dean’s sinewy body, the bunched-up muscles close to the surface. He remembered the feel of Dean’s shoulder blades under his clenched hands, fistfuls of bed-sheets. He thought about the creak of springs underneath his bare back as Dean’s firm, persistent hands pushed him down. He relived kissing the scars on Dean’s stomach, the curves and lines of his hipbones…

 

Cas sat and thought, recalling the events which had had such an exquisite effect on him. Without a doubt last night had been the best night of his entire existence; he couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier. Cas beamed into the silent dawn.

 

Cas’ blissful smile turned into something a little cheekier as an idea popped into his head. He bowled out of bed with renewed enthusiasm and stood, naked and vulnerable, in the middle of Dean’s bedroom. He pressed his eyes firmly closed and thought.

 

A moment later Cas’ found himself slipping and sliding on the slick, tiled surface of Dean’s shower. He skidded with such force that he almost toppled over, resulting instead in colliding with a very surprised, and dripping wet, Dean.

 

The bathroom wall was cold and clammy against the bare flesh of Dean’s back but the humid steam that surrounded them soon warmed him up and stole away the dryness of Cas’ skin. Cas kissed Dean steadily as the water cascaded down around them, droplets sliding over their meeting skin and clinging to their eyelashes.

 

Dean laughed affectionately. “Couldn’t you just stay away for one minute?”

 

Cas grinned so sheepishly that Dean had to laugh and draw him in again.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean’s shower had taken considerably longer than he had intended, owing to the fact the Cas had ended up in it. By the time they were both dressed; Cas looking adorable (and perhaps a little dazed) in an odd assortment of old clothes which Dean had dragged out from the back of his wardrobe in a dubious hope that they would fit him, the morning light had hardened  into bright, harsh noon daylight.

 

Dean’s complaining stomach led him through to the kitchen, Cas following close behind. “How ‘bout some breakfast, huh? I could eat a whole frickin’ horse right now.”

 

Cas’ silvery laughter was as bright as the gleaming kitchen surfaces as he jumped up onto the counter and sat, legs dangling, gazing down at Dean. Dean slipped between Cas’ legs and stretched up onto his tip-toes to kiss him. Cas beamed.

 

Dean checked the fridge. “I could make pancakes.”

 

“I’ve never made pancakes before.” Cas noted cautiously.

 

Dean gawked at him. “Never? You’ve lived for hundreds of years and you’ve never made pancakes before?”

 

Cas shook his head apologetically.

 

Dean chuckled and pulled him down, throwing an arm around Cas’ shoulder as he did so. “Come on pancake virgin, we’ve got work to do.”

 

Dean stretched up on his tip-toes to get the flour out of the cupboard, his T-shirt hitching up a little as he did so. For some reason that little section of exposed skin seemed like a vast desert to Cas; he ached with wanting to reach out and touch it. To indulge in his desire run his hands over Dean’s skin and make him forget all about his hunger, his thoughts replaced by something which was definitely not pancakes. But before he knew it Dean’s feet were back on the floor and he had missed his chance.

 

Flour puffed out into the air, a powdery cloud, remaining visible for only a moment. Dean weighed it casually, somehow managing to get it everywhere so that the worktops were dusted with the fine white residue. Dean strode past Cas again, slapping a floury hand on Cas’ ass as he passed. Cas smiled to himself as he craned his neck to see whether he hand left a mark. Sure enough a white handprint lingered on the dark expanse of his back pocket. Cas’ thoughts strayed to another handprint, one on Dean’s shoulder where his fingers fit perfectly. He was glad Dean was too busy to see him blush.

 

Cas stood and watched Dean curiously as he carelessly chucked ingredients into a bowl, hardly paying attention to what he was doing. Dean began to talk, not even bothering to check whether Cas was listening. He knew he would be. He always was. Cas seemed to hang onto every word he said, and Dean loved him for it.

 

Dean was easy-going and informative as he showed Cas how to whisk the ingredients together before shoving the bowl over the worktop towards him and looking at him expectantly.

 

Tentatively, as though it would break the moment he touched it; Cas took the bowl and did as Dean had demonstrated. Dean clattered about the kitchen with a frying pan, occasionally looking over at Cas and grinning as if every time he saw him he was surprised and delighted to see that he was still there. As if Cas was a dream Dean couldn’t believe hadn’t faded yet.

 

Dean leant over Cas’ shoulder in order to examine his efforts with the pancake mix. “Very good,” he commended, his voice taking a familiar cheeky edge. “You’re a natural.” 

Dean winked suggestively at Cas and spun to face him, laughing.

 

“Do I get a prize?” Cas inquired timidly. He was still not quite used to this flirting business and sincerely doubted he ever would be.

 

“Maybe.” Dean’s flirting, on the other hand, was smooth and effortless. Not to mention  _very_ effective.

 

Dean leant up and kissed him briefly but Cas wasn’t letting him get away that easily. He could kiss Dean forever, lost in the sensation of his hot breath and the sweet musky scent of him. His fingers ached and yeaned whenever Dean wasn’t under them and yet burned and tingled whenever he was. Dean  _completed_  him. It was an odd sort of idea, one which had no logical reason to make sense and yet  _did_. It made much more sense than Cas thought it probably should. Much more than was probably good for him.

 

But Cas had to let go eventually. Dean smiled at him and then continued to cook. He poured the mixture into the pan and Cas watched in interest as it sizzled and spat as hit the hot surface of the bottom of the pan. As the pancake turned slowly brown, Cas found himself wondering what it must be like to be human: to have all these needs and necessities. A little inconvenient he supposed. But if it meant Dean was with him Cas didn’t think he would mind it so much. Dean tipped his successful pancake onto the plate and grinned at Cas, breaking his chain of thought.

 

“You better have been watching the pancake master, ‘cause it’s your turn now.”

 

Dean slipped his arm around Cas’ waist and guided his hand onto the handle of the pan. The pressure of Dean’s warm body against his back was incredibly distracting but Cas doubted he could blame his awful pancake making skills entirely on that. Dean’s friendly laughter echoed in his ear as bit by bit, pancake by pancake, Cas finally managed to get the hang of cooking.

 

Cas thought there was no moment greater than this; making pancakes with Dean’s arms wrapped around him, the soft sugary scent of them wafting through the air to fill the kitchen with a warmth and life which only seemed to happen when Dean was nearby.

 

Eventually Dean and Cas managed to make enough (edible) pancakes to potentially satisfy Dean’s hunger and sat down across from each other at the table, legs bumping.

Dean smirked. “I am guessing,” he assumed “that you have never eaten a pancake before.”

 

Cas answered with a smile. Dean’s grin widened as he knew he was right. Wearing an expression somewhere between anticipation and smugness, Dean covered a pancake with an excessive amount of syrup and pushed it over the table towards him. Cas glanced down at the pancake and back up at Dean, who’s crossed arms and casually leant back body sang with an unspoken challenge. A challenge Cas readily accepted.

 

The pancake tasted even more amazing than it smelt. Dean must have seen the astonishment on Cas’ face because he laughed with such joy and care-free abandon that Cas found himself falling in love with him all over again.

 

Cas mentally saved this moment in his head: the way Dean’s perfect green eyes squeezed closed as the crinkles erupted around them, his wide beaming smile, his head thrown back with laughter. And the fact that Cas was the reason behind that smile was even greater still. Cas had finally found his perfect piece of heaven. But then again, it was no surprise. After all, the most beautiful of things are often found in the darkest of times.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Devouring the plate of pancakes did not take long (even including the time Dean wasted by kissing the syrup off Cas’ lips). Dean was just licking the sugar from his fingers when a rather groggy looking Sam stumbled through the front door.

 

“Sammy!” he exclaimed, “Where’ve you been man?”

 

Sam eyed Dean and Cas disapprovingly. “So you’ve finally stopped shagging then?”

 

Cas blushed. Dean on the other hand just laughed.

 

Sam scowled. “Seriously, you were so frickin’ loud I just  _had_  to get out of the house.”

 

“Where did you go?” Dean enquired, anxious, as ever, for his brother’s wellbeing, even though he was safely home now.

 

“The pub.” Sam said vaguely, a hint of caution creeping into his voice.

 

Dean grinned, his anxiety gone. “ _The_  pub? As in, the ‘I’m going to sit here until Gabriel turns up’ pub?”

 

Sam made a face which Dean interpreted as a yes. “All night?” He asked, “I’m guessing Gabriel  _did_  turn up then.”

 

“Well, yeah.” Sam paused, unwilling to say more. Fortunately for him, he was never provided with the chance to elaborate.

 

A flutter of wings filled the kitchen as Gabriel appeared behind Sam, a cheeky grin on his face. He raised a finger to his lips warning Dean and Cas to keep quiet about his presence. Dean tried not to laugh as Sam remained completely oblivious.

 

Sneaking up behind Sam, Gabriel slipped a hand over Sam’s hip and down his thigh, pressing his lips to his neck as he did so, his teeth grazing gently on his skin in a way which made Sam shiver and ache in the best possible way.

 

Dean let out an explosive snort of laughter as Sam’s eyes widened in shock and he whirled round to face Gabriel’s mischievous smile. “Hey, Sam.”

 

“Gabriel!” he protested.

 

Dean was still smiling like he was having the time of his life. “Looks like I’m not the only one who got laid last night.”

 

The kitchen rang with laughter. Everyone apart from Sam seemed to be greatly enjoying this turn of events.

 

“I hope you took good care of my little brother last night, Gabriel.” Dean warned jokingly.

 

“Oh,” Gabriel purred, “I did.”

 

Even Sam couldn’t help smiling.

 

~~~~~~~

 

The next two months were the best of Cas’ existence. It was often that he would hear Dean’s voice echo inside his skull, resounding along the length of his body, and feel the well-acquainted tug in the pit of his stomach; only to find himself in Dean’s bedroom, given only seconds to register the sight of Dean sprawled (usually in varying degrees of nakedness) across his bed, before he was pulled down by eager hands towards waiting lips.

 

Sometimes Dean took Cas out in the Impala and they would talk and laugh and occasionally they ended up doing some things which would have made Sam very reluctant to sit in the backseat ever again. Needless to say Dean never told Sam about these episodes; he’d faced enough apocalypses as it was and he didn’t need a murderous brother added to his rather extensive list of problems.

 

Once, Dean had even tried to teach Cas how to drive, a decision which resulted with predictably disastrous consequences. Dean had been in many life-threatening situations but never had he felt more terrified than with Cas’ hands on the steering wheel as his beloved car swerved across the road. By the time he’d thrown himself over the car and across Cas’ lap to get the car under control just in time to skid into the safety of a layby, Dean was breathing pretty heavily. And Cas didn’t really help by taking Dean literally when Dean told him he was better off putting his hands elsewhere.

 

At night Cas slept in Dean’s bed until the covers remembered his shape and the sheets constantly smelt like him. Dean got so used to sleeping with Cas alongside him that he found it difficult to drift off when he wasn’t there, the combination of Cas’ comfortable chest, familiar intoxicating scent and measured breathing was better than any lullaby. Cas’ presence soothed him. He liked Cas to be the first thing saw when he woke up in morning, it gave each day purpose and made everything worthwhile.

 

Often Cas didn’t sleep (since he didn’t need to anyway) but lay awake and thought, though it was difficult for anything to seem of particular importance when Dean was so comforting and warm beside him, his hands balled up against his chest. Cas treasured these nights, there was something fascinating about the way no negative things could reach him when he was safe in Dean’s bed. Often Cas found himself wishing he never had to leave.

 

But leave they did. They had to. But it still seemed like a mistake.

 

~~~~~~~

 

The day everything changed was a Tuesday.

 

Dean had never liked Tuesdays. And having once been repeatedly killed on one had not boosted his opinion. And if that wasn’t a good enough excuse to despise a day of the week, Dean didn’t know what was. However this particular Tuesday started off filled with promise when Dean opened his eyes to find Cas already gazing at him, his eyes alive with the fire of countless possibilities, all of which were looking pretty damn attractive right now.

 

Midmorning found Dean and Cas making out in the back seat of the Impala (impervious to Sam’s constant requests for them to cut it out) whilst Sam glowered furiously at the road, Gabriel chuckling next to him.

 

“Freakin’ horny bastards,” he muttered indignantly, “Can’t they just stop eating each other’s faces for one minute?”

 

As if to illustrate his point a soft, barely-supressed moan came from the direction of the back seat.

 

Sam’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “If they start doing anything else, so help me, I will stop this car and throw them both out onto the highway.”

 

Gabriel placed a calming hand on Sam’s thigh, leaning in towards him so that when he spoke his breath tickled the back of Sam’s neck. “Let me handle this one, hey Sammy? We might need them later. Unless you want to fight a bunch of demons on your own?”

 

Sam’s scowl relaxed slightly, defenceless to the soothing effect that Gabriel always seemed to have on him. “Fighting demons is looking like much more fun than sitting here watching my brother get it on.”

 

“I dunno,” Gabriel drawled, “could be entertaining.”

 

Sam punched Gabriel playfully and Gabriel’s face crinkled as he chuckled again, withdrawing his hand from Sam’s leg as he laughed. Leaning back against the car-door, he casually clicked his fingers, a cheeky smile lingering on his lips.

 

Sam smiled down at the road.  _This was going to be good_.

 

The next time Dean made to groan he got the fright of his life. His voice came out as a high-pitched, and not particularly sexy, parrot squawk which set Gabriel and Sam roaring at laughter as Cas jerked away, his face the very image of shock. Cas tried to speak but his voice came out a deep, drawn-out moo, making Sam and Gabriel laugh even harder. Cas and Dean continued to make protesting animal noises as Sam and Gabriel laughed until they physically couldn’t breathe and Sam was in danger of crashing the car. Eventually Cas’ saw the funny side and his moos turned into something similar to the equivalent of cow laughter. Dean on the other hand continued to squawk parrot profanities with increasing anger until Gabriel finally gave in and snapped his fingers once more, ending the spell.

 

So that was how the four of them happened to be still buoyed on the high waves of laughter as they reached their slightly less cheerful looking destination. Sam pulled the car into one of hundreds of empty parking spaces and clambered out into the cool air. The others followed him.

 

Sam leant against the closed Impala door, his arms resting on the roof, and surveyed the eerily deserted parking lot and the imposing warehouse behind it, a grim and desolate shadow against the sky.

 

“Can’t ever be somewhere that doesn’t resemble Creepsville can it?” He mused, more to himself than anyone else. “Come on then, let’s get this over with.” Sam pushed himself away from the Impala decisively and spun around to round up the others only to be met with the sight of Gabriel stood frozen, his face pinched, gaze unfocused as his ears strained to pick up something- like he was listening to music no-one else could hear.

 

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the expression was gone.

 

“Sorry, Sammy. I’m needed elsewhere. I gotta go.”

 

_Oh, so that was the angel radio calling him in them. Obviously everyone else is just tuned in to the wrong frequency._

 

Gabriel smiled sadly as if he could hear Sam’s bitter thoughts and rested his fingers on Sam’s stomach as he leant up to kiss his neck gently, apologetic, pressing his lips to the soft skin of his throat at the base of his chin. “Stay safe.” He whispered.

 

Then, with only the barest whispers of wind, he was gone.

 

Sam stared after him mournfully.  _I wish he didn’t have to go_. He was already feeling ill at ease and Gabriel had only been gone less than a minute. Shaking himself out of his state of melancholy nostalgia Sam turned to face his brother and Cas, who as ever was ogling at him with a doting expression on his face.

 

“Looks like it’s just the three of us then.”

 

Cas stopped staring at Dean long enough to give Sam a look he couldn’t interpret.  _Shut up, Cas. Unlike you, I have the capacity to function without my boyfriend._

 

Instead of giving in to his annoyance Sam continued to lay out a vague sort of plan. “However much I hate to say it, I think we’re going to have to split up- that way we’ll cover more ground. Call the others if you find anything.”

 

Dean nodded. Cas flicked an glace at Dean, unwilling to leave him but then nodded too.

 

“It’s a plan then.”

 

Sam swallowed a lump of apprehension which had unknowingly risen in his throat.  _It’s going to be fine Sam, stop over reacting._  Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean paced down another shady back street, a monotonous pattern. Street after street. He felt like he was on a treadmill: never getting closer to anything but never getting further away either. At first Dean thought the tingle of déjà vu along his spine was because of the undistinguishable alley so similar to every other street in this god-forsaken city; after all this perpetual searching for something that he shouldn’t be able to find, and definitely shouldn’t want to, was a scenario he had been in countless times before. It wasn’t until he became aware of the goosebumps on his skin and the abrupt darkness of the alley that he realised it was something else. Something much more sinister.

 

It was with a prophesied sort of expectancy that Dean turned around, already knowing what he would find. It was as if his whole life had been building up to this moment, like when you go on a walk without knowing where you’re going and its only once you arrive at your destination that you realise that you’d been heading there all along.

 

The shadow creature was crouched in the centre of the street, the shadows flickering around it like black flames. It hissed, low and guttural. Wild. Dean felt fear creep into his bones like icy water. Then the creature did something even more terrifying. It  _smiled_. A smug smile, malevolent and timeless. It was a smile that’s seemed to say ‘Welcome to your death Dean Winchester, I’ve been expecting you.’

 

_Shit._

 

The shadow thing flicked its tail, cat-like, and sprang to its feet. Dean hadn’t exactly forgotten how large it was, not when it had been plaguing is nightmares incessantly ever since the moment he had first seen it, but as it towered over him once again Dean was reminded of how very fragile and breakable he was.

 

Dean grip tightened on his knife. There was no way he was going down without a fight.  _You wanna dance shadow bitch?_

The shadow creature didn’t even attack. It didn’t have to.

 

The shadows flickered.

_Pain._

 

Relentless, wrenching, crippling. It exploded in his gut like a firework display. Dean stumbled backwards, an arm thrown around his torso, trying to hold himself together as the merciless agony tore him to shreds.

 

Dean pealed his arm away in disbelief as he felt the slimy touch of blood against it. The world span. Blood. Black blood. Poison in his veins.

 

What kind of creature was this that could slay him without even moving? Dean staggered, his legs weak beneath him. His knees buckled, gave in. The pavement was cold and rough against his back, eyes sliding closed.  _No, Dean. Don’t give in_.  _Stay awake._

 

_Stay awake._

 

_Stay…_

_…Awake._

One finial hope. One finial prayer. 

 

“Castiel.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean’s voice was desperate and pained. He needed him now more than ever. Hearing Dean’s voice like that, over and over as it bounced around his head hurt Castiel in a way he didn’t even know was possible.

 

Castiel appeared in the alley, ready for anything. He would not let Dean get hurt. But the alleyway was empty. Deserted.

 

There was nothing. A heavy silence lay on the seen like a blanket. Suffocating, onerous.

 

Nothing. No demons, no creatures, no Dean.

 

A low moan of pain pierced through the veil of silence.

 

_Dean._

 

A slumped figure, barely visible, just another shadow smeared into the pavement.

 

Dean lay spread-eagled as if he were a broken toy a no-longer-interested had child had discarded upon the floor. For a moment a seemingly irrelevant memory flashed through Cas’ mind: Dean sprawled on his back, moaning, defenceless, though for a completely different reason.

 

Cas knelt beside him. “Dean! Dean! What happened?”

 

Dean looked up at him groggily.

 

“Cas…”

 

“I’m here.”

 

“The creature. The shadow thing. It…it was here.”

 

“But I killed it! I blasted it with my magic, nothing can survive that!”

 

Dean shook his head, he blinked, prolonged, and for a moment Cas was scared he wouldn’t open his eyes again. “It can, Cas. And it wounded me. But without even moving. It… it just _stood there_. But… the pain… God, Cas, it hurts. It hurts so much.”

 

Dean unfurled his rigid arms from around his middle and Cas gasped. There was so much _blood_. It spread across Dean’s T-shirt, the one Cas remembered Dean pulling on this morning as Cas sat on his bed and watched him intently, simply because he could. The blood spread, forming a sticky pool around Dean’s pale form. It stretched out across the pavement, reaching Cas’ fingers. He pulled them away in revulsion. They were stained black.  _Black._  He stared at them in horror and disbelief.  _Black blood_. What did that mean? Hesitantly Cas lifted his fingers close to his nose and sniffed. He jerked his hand away in shock. Panic fled through him.

 

_Poison._

 

Carefully Cas reached out and slid his hands under Dean’s blood soaked shirt. Dean’s body convulsed and arched under his touch, a wet bubbling sound gurgled at the back of his throat. Cas peeled back the material, whispering apologies as tears prickled in his eyes. He wiped them away, smearing hot blood across his face as he did so. The scars on Dean’s chest were opened a new, effervescing blood too dark and acidic to be natural; the body Cas knew as well as his own torn into gaping fissures. But the creature had just stood there. How could its proximity alone make mincemeat of Dean’s frame?

_It was never really gone, was it? It merely left when it chose to_. And as long as it lived Dean was in danger.

 

Dean continued to tremble and hot tears continued to roll down Cas’ cheeks, washing away the tainted blood. Cas pressed his hands to the wounds, feeling blood spurt beneath them.

 

Cas closed his eyes, relieved to be rid of the sight of Dean’s destroyed body.  _Come on,_  he thought as he reached for the magic which would save his lover’s life. It seemed perilously far away, why wouldn’t it come to him?

 

A trickle of magic spluttered into being, a dim glow which lasted only for a moment before evaporating back into nothing.  _What was wrong with him?_

_Concentrate, Castiel. Concentrate. Dean’s life depends on this._

 

This time the magic emanated properly, filling the alley with golden light which spun around Dean’s body like a cocoon. The poison resisted, Cas could almost feel it writhing in Dean’s veins, malicious, hungry. Cas pushed harder, the light glowed brighter. Slowly, Cas forced the poison out of Dean’s body, the magic mixing with Dean’s blood until it returned to its natural scarlet lustre. The wounds sealed, trapping the golden light inside Dean’s body. Cas wavered, strength failing, and the magic cut off instantly.

 

Dean gasped. His eyes, previously so dull, flew open, shining with life. It seems Dean Winchester would survive to see another day.

 

~~~~~~~

 

The first thing Dean was properly aware of was Cas leaning over him, eyes glistening with tears. Blue eyes, dark and wise. All-knowing.  _Beautiful._

 

The next thing Dean registered was the fact that he was no longer in pain. He could breathe; he could see the world clearly. He was alive. It had never seemed like such a miracle until now.

 

“Cas…” Dean reached out for him and his fingers found Cas’ jaw. Dean pulled Cas into a kiss, passionate and thankful; fingernails dragging through stubble. It was only once he drew away that Dean noticed the bloody handprint he had left on Cas’ face.

 

Blood.

 

It was everywhere. Soaked into his clothing, splashing about him as he sat up. Cas’ trench coat sloshed as he stood, the ends stained crimson from where they had dragged upon the floor.

 

_His_  blood.

 

_Thank God for angel magic._  There was no way Dean could have lost that much blood and survived.  _Thank God for Cas._

 

The angel in question was staring at him worriedly. He stretched out a hand and Dean took it, allowing Cas to pull him up onto his feet and into his arms.

 

Cas held Dean tightly, afraid to let go. He felt like they’d come full circle from that fateful day where Dean had first been attacked and had lain in Cas’ arms, weak and vulnerable, and had seemed surprised by the fact that Cas had saved his life. It was as if nothing else in between had ever happened. But here, with Dean in his arms, there was proof that it had.

 

This time around, he had Dean. And that made everything worth it.

 

But he also had knowledge. A weighty, unavoidable knowledge. The shadow creature was still a threat, and would remain so, until it took its last undeserved breath. Cas knew that to protect Dean, he had to make that happen.

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured reluctantly, “you understand why I have to go after it.”

 

“What!?” Dean blurted, falling out of Cas’ arms in surprise, repulsed by the very notion of what Cas was suggesting.

 

“The shadow creature, Dean. I have to pursue it.”

 

“But, Cas, your magic didn’t work on it last time- you’ll be completely defenceless! Plus, you don’t even know  _what_  it is, let alone where it’s gone!”

 

“Dean, I have to try. While it lives you will never fully be healed, it will haunt you for the rest of your life, and then when it wishes to it will simply appear and awaken the poison inside you and it will be like the first time you got torn open all over again.”

 

“But I can’t just let you go running off to try and save me! This is the most dangerous thing we’ve ever encountered- I can’t let you face it on your own.”

 

“You can’t come with me, Dean.”

 

“Why? I can help! You don’t always have to save the world by yourself, you know.”

 

“Dean, this thing can kill you without even touching you. You’re too vulnerable.”

 

“Vulnerable!” Dean spat angrily, “I’ve spent my entire life close to death; I can handle this Cas.”

 

“No, Dean. You can’t.”

 

“What? Just because I’m some measly human, who’s not good enough for you?”

 

Cas faltered, “Dean…”

 

But Dean was on a roll, all the anger and pain inside him bursting out.

 

“I guess I’m just not strong enough, huh? Not compared to a mighty angel! Is that what I am to you, some kind of burden you just have to keep saving? Well, it may surprise you to know I’m perfectly capable of saving myself, and I definitely don’t need  _you_  to do it for me!” Dean surprised himself by having to swipe away a tear which was forming in the corner of his eye.

 

“Dean, this isn’t about how weak you are. In fact, you are the strongest person I’ve ever met. It’s me who’s not strong enough Dean, I’m not strong enough to almost lose you time and time again because I am so…” Cas squeezed his eyes tight shut, as if he couldn’t face what he was about to say, “… _terrified_  that one day I’ll fail and I’ll lose you forever and I…I can’t live with that _._ ”

 

“Cas,” Dean said softly, “you can’t save me from everything. I’m only human Cas, one day you’ll have to accept the fact that you can’t save me forever; but until then I have to keep doing this, to save everyone else.”

 

“You don’t understand do you? I’m in love with you Dean! Every little thing about you. Your green eyes, your smile, the way you make coffee in the mornings. You save everyone Dean, and get nothing back and yet you still do it, because you are the bravest, most beautiful man I have ever met. And more than that, you make me feel like I’m worth something too. The way you’re always there, the way you look at me…” Cas broke off, emotion disturbing his words, “and I just… I just  _can’t_  live without that Dean.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I can’t live without  _you_.”

 

“Cas, I…”

 

“Please Dean, don’t try and convince me to stay. I wish I could, believe me I do, but I can’t Dean. I have to do this. And you have to promise me that you won’t try and summon me while I’m gone.”

 

“But…”

 

“Promise me, Dean. Please.”

 

The words felt rough and violent - like hands around his neck- as they forced their way out of his mouth. “I promise.”

 

Dean chocked back a lump he hadn’t realised was in his throat. “Just promise me one thing in return, okay? Promise me you’ll come back.”

 

Cas looked up sadly, the edges of his eyes shimmering. “You know I can’t guarantee that Dean.”

 

Dean looked at him, his sad eyes glossy with tears that matched his own and he saw his own emotions reflected back at him. And in that moment he knew that Cas  _had_  to go, however much it pained both of them.

 

Dean pulled Cas roughly into a kiss which said ‘I love you’ in the only language Dean knew how. He could feel the tears slipping down Cas’ cheeks and his unwillingness to let go. So they kissed, and they kissed, until both their faces were smeared with salty tears whose origin was intangible; and still they did not let go, for to let go would be to admit that this was goodbye.

 

So they clung tight, two embracing figures in the darkness of the alley until Cas gave one finial kiss and drew away, his fingers dragging along Dean’s jaw in his reluctance to leave him behind. Dean reached up and held Cas’ hand against his face and for a moment they just _stared_ , savouring each other’s faces and hoping with all their might that this would not be the last time they saw each other.

 

But then Cas let go, as Dean knew he always must. “Goodbye Dean.” He whispered softly, his anguished face still streaked with silver tears.

 

And then, he was gone.

 

~~~~~~~

 

That night Dean’s bed was a vast and unnavigatable ocean, where the sheets formed towering waves of emptiness where Cas’ body should be and the storm grew and crashed and grew and crashed inside Dean’s head. He couldn’t believe Cas had gone. Left. Dean tossed and turned as wolves of worry nudged and gnawed and tore at his mind. He tried to sleep but images of Cas wouldn’t stop jumping into the places behind his eyelids where rest should be. It was in vain that he kept telling himself again and again that this was just the same as one of those nights Cas had had to go check on something, attend to some angel business or what not. Dean tried to convince himself, kept grasping onto straws he knew weren’t really there; and all the while he kept up a mantra in his head:  _he’ll be back soon, he’ll be back soon, he’ll be back soon_ , as if he said it enough times it would become true. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself. The bed was just as lonely as it had been before. No words could keep him company tonight.

 

Dean pulled his pillow towards him and buried his face in its softness, desperately clinging to the last remnants of Cas’ musky scent. But even the faintest wisps of aroma had all but gone, lost under the heavy stench of Dean’s restless agitation.

 

_Where are you now, Cas? Surely your search must have already led you into places even darker than the shadows left by your absence. Why did you have to go alone Cas? You had to share my fault didn’t you? My fatal flaw. You had to be so duty bound, had to think you couldn’t save everyone. Just like me. It’ll be the end of us both, you know._

 

Dean fidgeted again, unable to settle, and pushed the disappointment laden pillow away from him. It was making him feel sick, all these half memories; they lurked in the creases of the bed sheets he had so often shared with Cas and haunted him with their niggling presence, not quite substantial enough to make him feel less lonely and yet enough for their existence to be inescapable. Dean wanted to ignore it all, to cover his ears and curl into a ball, his eyelids scrunched tight shut against the world. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted silence, a break from this repertoire of flashing images and nauseating anxiety. But most of all what he wanted was to hear a pattering of light footsteps and for Cas to slip into bed beside him and wrap him up in a cocoon of warm, strong arms and comforting words barely audible as they were whispered across his pillow. To feel the press of Cas’ nose against his neck, his soft breath tickling his ear, the steady  _thud thud thud_  of his heart matching Dean’s as if they were one. But neither of those was possible, and Dean knew it.

 

Sighing softly, Dean sat up, unable to bear another moment in the barren landscape of this bed, so foreign to the shape of his body without Cas here to guide him and mould the stubborn clay of his mind into something more desirable. Dean swung his legs out of bed, not bothering to take the feebly scent tangled sheets with him as he left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

 

The hallways of the house were dark and quiet and lonesome, forlorn in the absence of the sun’s bright rays, just as Dean was lost and deserted without the clarity from the steady light Cas brought to him. He was a lonely moon, lost in the depths of space without his irresistible gravitational pull.

 

Dean found himself in the living room and curled up on the sofa. He sat, his legs hunched under his chin, and remembered a time when daylight had streamed in through the window and Cas had stumbled for words.

_I think I’m in love with you_.

 

_I love you too_. It seemed that, as ever, Dean was learning the hard way as he slowly realised exactly how much he really did.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean woke up with a crick in his neck and legs which felt like they’d never move again. Slowly he uncurled himself, prising his arms away the position in which they had been cemented to his body. Dean’s face felt streaked and sticky and his eyes ached with a heaviness which told of shed tears.

 

Early morning shadows clung to his skin, dragging their ghostly fingers across his thighs and twisting his mind into knots. In this pre-dawn anticipation the world’s emptiness pressed down on him and Dean felt no resistance, no will to get up. But he did. Just as Dean and Cas had crawled out of bed only a day ago, Dean got up and faced the world just as he always had.

 

Except this time he was alone.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Seasons went by, the trees which had wept their golden leaves onto the ground now grew fresh and bright, and the sun burned the sky with all the enthusiasm for life that Dean had lost.

 

Life was hard without Cas. Not just hunts, where both him and Sam struggled without Cas’ much-needed angel magic and the way he could be so reliably counted upon to always have their backs, but in everyday life too. Dean missed the comfort of Cas’ presence, the reassurance of a comforting hand placed on his arm, being able to look over his shoulder and see Cas laughing, a broad and genuine smile creasing his beautiful face. He missed the way that whenever he got angry or frustrated about something pointless and inane, Cas would just pull him close, drape his arms over his shoulders and kiss him until he forgot about it. Dean missed the touch of Cas’ bare feet against his own, those mornings spent in bed, deliberating whether or not they would have to get out. And it would be futile to even try and consider the concept that Dean didn’t admit to inexorably missing those nights of Cas’ hot body pressed up against his own, the slide of their hips and the taste of sweat in his hungry kisses. But more than that Dean missed the mornings afterwards when they would awaken slowly to contentment, bliss and the sight of their clothes still strewn across the bedroom floor.

 

Dean spent his days trying to forget. He avoided anything which might remind him of Cas. He couldn’t even bear to step into his own bedroom- the memories were too sharp and vivid and painful and the lack of Cas’ familiar scent only made his absence even more inescapable.  But even in the impossibility that Dean might manage to forget his ceaseless worry for Cas, even if it was only for a mere moment, there was something else to contend with. The vivid and jarringly intense nightmares that Cas had left in his wake.

 

Dean didn’t sleep often, but if he did it was always hunched up on the sofa, or with his face in a pile of papers on the table, always in the middle of doing something.  But that didn’t stop the dreams.

 

Dean would catch glimpses of Cas creeping down abandoned streets or treading carefully down a darkened passage, throwing wary glances over his shoulder. Pouring over manuscripts as old as time itself, his face softly illuminated by flickering candlelight- beautiful, as ever, but weary and haunted- something which only made the papers he examined so restlessly seem even more brittle and wrinkled and fragile than ever.

 

Dean felt sure they were true: visions from somewhere or someone who didn’t want him to give up. He could feel it in his bones- some animal instinct that told him to trust what he saw and believe in the heart which told him that Cas was not dead, could not be dead, for surely he would feel it- as painful and robbing as his own death, like the snuff of the final  candle being extinguished.

 

The dreams provided something Dean desperately needed: a sight of Cas- however worn and frayed he appeared. It may not be the concrete evidence Dean required, and they certainly were not sufficient enough to be of comfort to him, nor could they even begin to compensate for the gaping hole of Cas’ deficiency. But either way Dean clung to them, as they were the only proof he had that Cas was still alive. And Dean was adamant in his refusal to even consider, let alone accept, the alternative.

 

And somehow, between the dreams and the distractions he carefully put into place, Dean managed to remain sane. Just about.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean was a hollow-eyed ghost.  As the months went by and the nights began to lengthen again even Dean began to question himself. Doubts crept in, like cold water into battle-worn bones. Why hadn’t Cas returned? The dreams showed him enough for Dean to know that this was no easy task Cas had undertaken, and that it far exceed the difficulty and dangerousness they had first assumed. But Dean no longer trusted anything. A life of hunting had already led him to suspect everything, but this time it had been taken to the next extreme, because he no longer trusted himself. He was no longer assured in the knowledge that his eyes showed him exactly what was there; he was beginning to wonder if any of this was actually happening. Dean’s mind was not the safe and reliable haven from the chaos of the world that it had once been. Dean began to consider the idea that maybe the constant crash of the waves of the world’s turmoil had worn down the walls to his mind and a little of that madness was seeping in. Perhaps he was no longer entirely sane.

 

But Dean tried not dwell on such matters, as he knew well enough that they would not help his predicament in the slightest. Instead, he devoted himself to hunting, thinking that every creature he killed would be one less obstacle that Cas might have to overcome. If he could hack away at the forces of evil maybe Cas’ seemingly impossible task would become easier. Maybe it would help him would come home.

 

Sam was dependably willing to help him and appeared to relish the vigour for hunting (especially since it meant more contact with Gabriel), though Dean knew that he worried. He noticed him silently fretting over the shadows that had begun to nestle under the eyes which had taken such a turn to becoming dark and haunted that Dean barely recognised them in the mirror anymore. Dean saw Sam’s unease when his restlessness was broken by episodes of drinking when he ran out of things to occupy his time and the memories threatened to come back stronger and more painful than ever. He knew Sam had never approved of his habit of drowning out the world with the strongest alcohol he could lay his hands on, but quite honestly Dean didn’t know what other alternatives he had.

 

Dean was afraid to stop working. He knew that if he let himself stop even for a moment everything would come rushing back- all the pain, all the uncertainty, and he would never be able to start again. He would lose himself in the dim haze of grey nothingness which threatened to consume if he didn’t keep moving forward. He had to keep struggling onwards, one foot in front of the other. He had to keep one step ahead; he couldn’t let it reach him. He had to keep running.

 

~~~~~~~

 

 “Gabriel, do you think Cas is ever going to come back?”

 

“I dunno Sammy. He’s been gone for 7 months.  If he was alive, he’d be home by now.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

_The doubt’s the worst thing._   Dean thought.  _The never ending what-ifs_.

 

Despite the striking vividness of the dreams which had so convinced Dean that Cas was still out there, still alive, still fighting and Dean’s certainty that if that ever changed he would surely feel something, anything, that would indicate Cas’ passing; Dean still worried. What if he was wrong? What if Cas was already dead and gone without even the slightest of recognitions.  _No Dean,_  he told himself,  _there may be a possibility he might be dead, but he’ll never be gone. Not really, Not while we remember him. Not while I still feel the brush of his hands in that dreaming state between sleep and wakefulness. Not while I, and everything he made me into, still live and still cherish him._

 

But even that couldn’t comfort him. Still the thoughts plagued him, whispered uncertainties into his ear.

 

_What if he’s dead?_

_What if he’s lying somewhere injured, lost, unable to get home?_

_What if he ran off and never had any plans of ever coming back?_

_What if he wanted this? What if he wanted me to be broken?_

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Dean found a feather in the backseat of the Impala today. One of Cas’. He looked like someone had shot him. I’m so worried about him Gabriel, most days it’s like he’s not even here anymore. If Cas doesn’t come home soon, I don’t think Dean ever will either.”

 

“I know Sam. I worry too. I haven’t heard any news of Cas from heaven since he left. I’d go after him- try and find him, persuade him to let me help- but I don’t know where he is. Neither does anyone else. He could be anywhere Sammy. And after all I’ve got you two to protect- I can’t go running off the same as he did.”

 

“I know Gabriel, I know. But what are we gonna do?”

 

“The only thing we can, Sammy: wait.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

_The world is empty._

_I think I’m lost._

_Come home, Cas._

_I need you._

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Hey, Gabriel, come and look at this.”

 

“What is it Sammy?”

 

“I think it’s a tally chart. I guess Dean’s must have been carving it into the wall.”

 

“One mark for every day without Cas.”

 

“Must be.”

 

“That’s a whole lot of marks.”

 

“I know.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean could feel himself fading away. The world seemed distant and unreachable, as if there was an invisible barrier between him and the rest of the universe, and for all Sam and Gabriel’s worry they were just muffled voices and faces peering in through the window.

 

Dean was floating out to sea and he was powerless. He knew that the only one who could stop it was the one who caused it.

 

_Come home, Cas._

 

_Please._

 

~~~~~~~

 

Cas had been gone 8 months, 3 weeks and 2 days when the pain started again.  It was often at night that the poison attacked him, turning his blood to acid which boiled him from the inside out, and in the darkness Dean could hear the shadow creature mocking him. Its laughter was the draft blowing in through the window and the creak of the floorboards- Sam’s footsteps and the creak of the door as he peered in, his face a mask of worry which soon turned to outright terror.

 

Dean could feel its claws twisting his flesh as the convulsions racked his body, and the whip of its tail set him on fire. Dean’s mouth filled with the acrid taste of it as the dark clouds began to descend on his vision and he knew that if Cas’ didn’t kill it soon, he would soon be gone. He would soon find out whether or not Cas was dead and gone.

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Thanks for healing him last night Gabriel. I thought he was going to die.”

 

“I thought he was going to as well Sammy. For a moment it seemed like my magic wasn’t going to work, and even when it did it doesn’t seem permanent. That’s why Cas went after it, wasn’t it? Our magic can’t heal him. But I’m glad it was enough to keep the poison at bay.”

 

“I can’t lose him, Gabriel. Not again.”

 

“I know Sammy. But there’s nothing more we can do. This one’s up to Cas.”

                                                                 

~~~~~~~

 

If the temptation to summon Cas had been bad before, it was nothing compared to how Dean felt now. There was not a living moment where Dean wanted to feel the weight of that word on his lips, feel the roll of it in his mouth and let the sound of it fill this silence which haunted him. He wanted to feel that irresistible tug as Cas was drawn to his side. He needed to see him appear, disorientated and stumbling, needed to watch his worry fade into relief as he realised that Dean was fine and that the only thing Dean needed from him was his delight of his company. It was frustrating to think of all the times he had used it so casually, taken it for granted even though Cas had been so wary when they had first cast the spell; only for him to be unable to use it now when he needed it most. And oh, Dean wanted to. But he simply couldn’t break that one finial promise.

 

He couldn’t.

 

_Promise me, Dean. Please._

_I promise._

 

 

~~~~~~~

 

“How’s Dean doing, Sammy?”

 

“He’s okay. Well, I wouldn’t say okay. But I think he’s going to survive.”

 

“Cas better hurry up and kill the fucker.”

 

“Gabriel, why are we doing this? A couple of months ago you told me you thought Cas was most probably dead, but now that he’s our only chance we’re just gonna go back to acting as though he’s just got stuck in traffic somewhere and he’ll be home in an hour or two? ‘Cause there’s no point in that, is there Gabriel? We’re only kidding ourselves.”

 

“I’m just trying to be optimistic Sammy. We gotta keep hoping. Hope’s all we’ve got left.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean’s dreams about Cas slowly became more and more frequent and intense, as if an air of urgency had crept into them. Dean had given up trying to work out whether they were real or not. He treated them like he treated the nightmares of the shadow creature which plagued him repeatedly and sent his heart racing and sweat erupting on his skin as his eyes shot open only to face a day which was just as dark as the grinning face of the creature which was the source of all his pain. In their own way, they were just as bad.

 

~~~~~~~

 

“Nine months, Sammy. Dean’s gonna run out of space on that wall soon.”

 

“I know.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean fell into a meaningless routine. A monotonous pattern.

 

Get up. Work. Hunt. Forget.

 

Survive.

 

But it still wasn’t quite enough.

 

Dean could feel it building up inside him, a pounding worry which clawed its way up towards the surface. Dean knew something big was coming, a climax of sorts. It wouldn’t be long now, one way or another, this would soon be over.

 

~~~~~~~

 

_Cas yanked another dusty scroll from the crumbling gaps in the wall of this ancient library and retreated back to the desk which was almost entirely hidden under piles and piles of primeval books and worn paper manuscripts like the one he now clutched in his hand._ Please let this be the one, _Cas begged,_ please let this have the answer I’m looking for. _Lowering himself back into the creaky wooden chair, Cas began to unroll the fragile parchment and examine the profusion of tiny dark symbols etched neatly onto the yellowing pages with bold black ink. Hours passed as Cas meticulously made his way down the never-ending lines of text, searching, searching and hoping with all his heart that this would be the last scroll he had to peruse- that this one would tell him what he had spent so long looking for, in each and every dark corner of the world: what the shadow creature was, where he could find it and most importantly, how he could kill it._ This time, _Cas swore,_ this time it would not evade him _._

_Suddenly, Cas froze. He didn’t believe it._

_This was it._

_After all this time, he’d finally found it!_

_Cas sat up straighter in his chair and pressed his nose close to the parchment. It was with scrutiny that he eyed the tiny, elusive sketch. Yes, yes, that was the creature. Whatever had been trying so desperately to eradicate all lore and knowledge of this creature had finally missed something. Cas was reinvigorated, he attacked his work with a new found frenzy. Quickly, with a growing excitement rising in his chest, he examined the section of text. Then, he examined it again, studying it with all the care and obsessive compulsion to not miss a single detail that archaeologists must have felt when they dug up the antediluvian crypts of the Emperors of Egypt._

_Cas hurried back over to the wall so peppered with pigeon holes and stuffed with scraps of parchments and frantically searched for the scroll the text had mentioned. After rifling through what felt like a mountain of papers and documents, he finally found it. As Cas lifted it out from beneath the countless other scrolls it so resembled, he stared at it with incredulousness. How strange it was to finally have his hands on it after so long. Finally, finally._

_Cas rushed back over to the table, clearing it with one powerful swipe of his arm, disregarding as the countless documents, records and accounts disseminated to the floor, bouncing and rolling away in all directions. Taking a deep breath to steady his anticipation, Cas rolled out the parchment and gaped at the miracle this information provided._

_He could do it, he could do it. Finally._

 

~~~~~~~

 

Dean awoke, shivering and sweating and awash with the certainty that, one way or another, this exploit would soon be over.

 

He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, his head still pounding from the most recent dream. He rubbed his temples relentlessly, as if doing so would rid him of the pain. But this dream had brought him something other than a headache. A deep assurance spread through him, clarifying what he had supposed before. This venture of theirs, the one that had separated him and Cas for so long, was finally coming to a close. Here was the head of the spot, hopefully now they could rid themselves of this nuisance and everything would be back to normal again. Or at least, as normal as it ever gets in Winchester terms.

 

Dean sighed. Despite the fact that Cas was in even more danger now than ever before, Dean was glad. He had been wishing this could be over for going on 10 months. Now, finally, they were reaching the end of this tale. Whatever the ending, Dean would be glad to, at long last, be able to slam this book closed.

 

~~~~~~~

 

_There was a light fluttering of wings amid the total darkness and then a figure immerged and dim light illuminated the scene as Cas stepped out, fingers clinging tightly to his silver blade, surveying his surroundings. It was deserted.  One of the deepest darkest corners of hell, and not a single entity was in sight._ So this is it, _thought Cas,_ the creature’s lair.  _As much as he’d had to fight to get here, what was coming next would no doubt be a much more challenging battle._

_Cas nervously ran his fingers over the folded scrap of parchment in his pocket, hoping with all his heart that this reckless plan would work. He was far away, very, very far- concealed in one of the farthest extremities of hell- there was absolutely no guarantee that that kind of magic would operate down here. It was far more likely that it would not. But he had to try, didn’t he?_

_“Dean?” Cas spoke softly, not wanting to raise his voice in case it alerted anything to his presence. “Dean, I know you’re there. I know you’re listening.” Cas let out a breath, feeling a little absurd. Here he was, stood in hell about to face something that would probably result in his death, and he was talking to empty air. “You can hear me, can’t you? Because of our bond, our profound bond? Well, listen to me now. I’ve found a spell that will kill this thing but it will also kill anything else within a 10 metre radius, myself included. Now, the only way I’m gonna be able to get out of this is if you summon me as soon as I tell you, okay? I know what I said, about promising not to, and that you’re probably gonna think this is just some crazy dream, but I need you to do this. Otherwise, I’m going to die, Dean. And I’ll probably be stuck down here after I do. In fact, there’s no guarantee that the summoning spell will find me or be able to drag me out of here, and you know I would be more than happy to sacrifice myself if it’s the only way to kill this thing, but I need you to try, okay? I need you to do this. For me. And if it doesn’t work, I want you to know that I love you and that I did this for you, so don’t you dare go and give up after I’m gone.” Cas broke off, his head lowering dejectedly. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his knife and the inadequate looking piece of parchment that would save Dean and purge the world of a terrible evil, even if it took it with him. Allowing himself one last glace upwards to where he hoped Dean was watching, Cas stepped forward and began his descent into the darkness._

_It felt like an eternity of twisting darkness, stifling heat and the occasional disembodied ethereal scream, before Cas found his way to where the creature lurked. It was huddled in the corner, devout and gloating. Cas’ grip tightened on his angel blade, his human vessel’s hands slippery with sweat. The creature’s eyes slid up to greet him and Cas glimpsed the hell-fire within them, the same flames which Cas had pulled Dean out of only a few years ago. The creature grinned like a Cheshire Cat and lazily lurched to its feet. It had a derisive, mocking air about it, and Cas hated it._ How dare this creature tear Dean to ribbons and then stand and face him like he’d just played the most incredible prank? I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch, then it’ll be a joke. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’ve blown you to pieces.

 

_The creatures grin widened, as if it could hear Cas’ resentful thoughts and relished the fight to come. Cas’ only had time for one last rational thought before he attacked_. That’ll make the two of us _._

_The creature leapt at him, pouncing like a cat, and Cas slashed and swirled, angel blade glowing faintly. He flipped it between his fingers and got a decent stab on the creature shadowy flank before it wrenched itself free, snarling angrily, tail whipping behind it. It stalked forwards, hackles raised, growling. Cas snatched the piece of paper out of his pocket and fretfully began the incantation, hastily chanting the words which he knew would reduce the two of them to ashes._

_The creature growled and made to tackle him, thrashing its tail out towards him. Cas dodged it, though barely, and sliced at it with his knife. The creature roared as the blade broke through its skin, the end of the tail which Cas had now severed dissolving into smoke as it hit the floor. The creature flicked violently, malevolence smouldering in its eyes. It slashed at him, hacking the air with its gargantuan claws. Cas stumbled backwards, trying desperately to evade them, but the tips still nicked his skin. Pain fluttered through him but he did not stop reciting. He may be able to injure this thing but he was pretty sure this invocation was the only thing that could kill it. Already, smoky shadows were diffusing at the tip of the creature’s tail and weaving together to form a new apex._

_Cas kept chanting, heat beating wildly, frantically trying to fend the creature off for long enough to finish the spell, but the creature was attacking again and again with amplified vivacity, and Cas wasn’t quick enough to evade its formidable blows._

_Deep scratches carved the length of his arm and the shallow notched cavities in his chest from where the creature had injured him before were bleeding relentlessly, pain tearing deeper every time he moved. He was ravaged with wounds, stumbling on his feet, a waking sleepwalker. But still the thing came at him, attack after attack, blow after blow, until, at last, Cas was knocked off his feet and onto the ground, bones shattering on impact._

_The creature loomed over him, a colossal cloud of darkness, as he stirred feebly in the dirt. Cas was bruised, battered and broken, and those fiery eyes which now watched him in pleasure felt like his death come early. Cas took a deep breath and readied himself to die as the creature raised its paw for the final blow. He could have squeezed his eyes tightly closed, but he didn’t. Instead the concluding words of the spell rattled off his lips in a blur of ragged breath and last hopes, finishing in a feverous yell. A scalding white light scorched the room in a blaze of bleaching fury, just as the creature’s claws sliced downwards._

_In the stark blankness which followed only a single futile cry could be heard, the scream of a man’s last hope._

_“Now!”_

~~~~~~~

                                                                 

“Castiel!”

Dean was screaming before he’d even opened his eyes. His heart was pounding painfully as he shot bolt upright and frantically tried to gasp air back into his lungs. With hysteria-fuelled speed he stumbled off the sofa and slammed on the light.

 

It was quiet. Too quiet.

 

“Cas?” Dean questioned, his voice quiet and uncertain- it cracked hoarsely, though from emotion or the physical strain he’d put his voice box through, he didn’t know.

 

_Nothing. Silence._

 

Surely Cas should be here by now.

 

_Nothing._

 

Dean held his breath.

 

_Nothing._

 

Moment after moment ticked by; each one stretching out an eternity more than the last.

 

_Still nothing._

 

He was gone then. Dead.

 

Dean’s body crumpled.  He collapsed onto his knees, hot tears already splashing down his cheeks.   _Oh, Cas._

_Dead. gone. Dean would never see his face again. Never again would he watch that bright light of curiosity seep into his eyes as he tilted his head like a cautious puppy. Never again would he feel the comforting warmth of his hands brushing against his arm, not restraining, but reassuring- gentle, understanding. Never again would he feel the tickle of his warm breath against his neck and lean into the soothing rasp of his voice. Never again. Never again. All of that wisdom in his lover’s eyes, was it really gone for good?_

_I’m alone again._ Dean thought, wrapping his arms tightly around his body as if he could squeeze some life back into himself.  _Cas is dead, that_ creature _still lives, and I am still cursed. It was all for nothing._

 

_Nothing._

Dean’s head sunk into his hands and his slumped shoulders racked with sobs. He lay like a wilted flower, as though all the bones had gone from his body- shivering and shaking; wet, strangled noises choking their way out of his throat as he tried desperately to breathe, to fight off this awful pain in his chest which felt like it was tearing him in two.

 

Dean stopped crying.

 

Bewildered, he looked down at his chest, as if his eyes would be able to examine the curious leaching feeling which was crawling across his skin. He felt like something was leaking out of him, like he’d been filled with poison which was now draining away. But then again, maybe that’s exactly what was happening.

 

Dean yanked up his shirt, half expecting to find the old wounds oozing blood. Instead, the opposite was happening. The dark, charcoal scars were fading rapidly, lightening in colour until they matched his skin and shrinking to nothing. In a few mere moments not a single scratch remained to tarnish the span of his torso. Dean ran a disbelieving hand over his chest. He was healed, completely and utterly healed. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a weight which had been crushing him so relentlessly that he’d forgotten how it felt to be able to move and breathe without it. The poison which had been sapping his energy and his strength, his will and his confidence, was finally gone and Dean felt as revitalised as the day Cas had yanked him out of hell.

 

And this miracle could only mean one thing; the shadow creature was dead. Cas had not died in vain.

 

A muffled thump sounded from the other room. Dean jumped to his feet, one hand searching for the gun resting on the coffee table next to the old, worn sofa where Dean had been sleeping for the past few months, whenever his mind had let him rest that is.

 

Cautiously, Dean edged in the direction of the noise, gun at the ready. Sticky tears still stained his face and the hands which clutched the pistol were shaking. Dean rounded the corner and the sight which met his eyes knocked the small amount of breath he still had clean out of his body. His gun hit the floor with a crash.

 

Cas stood, faint and trembling, stumbling against the kitchen table as he tried to orientate himself. He looked like he’d been steamrollered by a hell-bitch, but, thank God (even though he was a dick), he was alive, and he was  _here._

 

“Cas?”

 

Cas looked up shakily. Dean gasped at the sight of his lover’s startling blue eyes. It had been far too long, far, far too long.

 

For a moment Dean just should there, lost in the complete shock of seeing Cas again, alive and well, to finally have him in reach again. He felt like he was drowning in his disbelieving relief. But now the moment had finally come, Dean didn’t know what to say.

_What the heck are you supposed to you say to someone who you hadn’t seen in 9 months? Someone who until 10 seconds ago you had believed to be dead? Someone who you are completely and utterly, head-over-heels in love with?_

 

In the end, it turned out to be nothing. Cas just looked at him with those pleading eyes as if Dean were water and he was a man dying of thirst. Then he staggered forwards and with the slightest of motions opened his arms out for Dean to fall into.

 

So Dean did. And after so long apart, it felt like coming home.

 


End file.
